


Music of the Heart

by uofmdragon



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cello Player, Alternate Universe - Composer, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Cellist Clint Barton, Clint is trying to be a better parent, Composer Phil Coulson, M/M, Minor Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Misunderstandings, Parent Clint Barton, Past Clint Barton/Bobbi Morse, Roommates, Single Parents, Stress Baking, including my beta's car, lots of cameos, may have driven the beta a little crazy due to my desire to include everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 15:42:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19397218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uofmdragon/pseuds/uofmdragon
Summary: Phil has composed music for numerous movies.  Normally he holes up in a hotel near whatever symphony he's working with and writes while eating junk food.  For his latest movie that means near the Stark Symphony.  The good news is that the principal violinist knows that one of the cellists has a spare room and will ensure that Phil can eat healthy.  The bad news is that Phil has a thing for cellist and this cellist is probably the hottest one he's seen.





	Music of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MonicaOP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonicaOP/gifts).



> Monica requested Clint as a cellist and Phil as someone that is besotted with him. Due to my history as an *NSync fan there was only one title for this one: Music of the Heart, which is very close to "Music of My Heart" a song that *NSync sang with Gloria Estafan for a soundtrack of a movie with the same name. Beta by lapillus.

Phil stepped into the concert hall to be greeted by music. He paused, looking over toward the sound. A trio was playing in the hall; he could pick out sweet sounds of the violin, the mello tones of the viola, and the warmth of a cello blending together in perfect harmony. Phil glanced over at Melinda, giving her a questioning look., She nodded once. 

The trio of musicians was not occupying the main theater, but tucked against one of the doors to the theater. There was a cluster of chairs in front of them, which were three quarters full. There was a variety of people in the audience. Some were seniors, there was one woman with a toddler that was coloring in a book, and a group of college-aged boys that were eyeing the violinist. Another cluster of college students, but their eyes were closed, heads moving slightly to the beat of the music. Phil stood a few feet behind the last row. The trio conisisted of a violin, viola, and cello player. The violinist was a red haired white woman with her hair tied stylish back. Her eyes wandered from the music the most, keeping track of her trio. A man of african descent with a thin goatee was the violist. The third player, the cellist, was a white man with short, light brown hair, which appeared to be artfully tousled. 

Phil closed his eyes as he just listened for a few minutes. They were very good and clearly had experience playing together. They were all good enough to principals for their sections, though sometimes it wasn't the principles that did the ensembles, especially not with Nick conducting. The man liked to shake things up. Phil's eyes opened and went back to the cellist, watching the man's hands as he played, creating beautiful music. 

Melinda sighed next to him a moment later, he rocked slightly as she nudged him with his shoulder. "Another cellist, Phil?"

Phil shrugged, enjoying the music. As it came to a close, Phil clapped politely as the cellist's eyes slid open and met Phil's across the room. He barely had time to take in a set of fascinating eyes, before a hand landed on Phil's shoulder. He turned to find Nick smiling at him.

"Nick," he said softly, turning to give his old friend a hug. He let go a moment later and Nick turned to hug Melinda, before gesturing them to follow. Together the three of them left the room. Phil couldn't help, but glance back towards the cellist, whose attention was on violinist. Had those eyes on been blue? Green? Some sort of mix? Moments later, music followed Phil as Nick led them towards his office.

*

Clint looked past the empty conductor stand, making a face at Natasha as she tuned her violin. It was something to do that helped him to ignore Sitwell next to him. Unlike most professional symphonies, Fury encouraged a bit more competition and allowed challenges once a year. He knew Sitwell was planning on challenging him, the problem was that he didn't know when.

Natasha glanced over her stand, arching an eyebrow at him. She wouldn't resort to making a face, at least. Her eyes slid past him and she straightened just a bit more. Clint followed suite, knowing that Fury was walking out. 

Fury was not alone though. Potts was with him and the two he'd seen with Fury earlier,and Clint glanced over to see Natasha eying the newcomers closely.

"Musicians," Fury said, gathering the orchestra's attention as he stepped up onto the podium. "I know you've been waiting for the schedule to come out for the upcoming season. Well, we'll be having an abbreviated season."

"Abbreviated how?" Pietro, annoying flutist, asked, frowning.

"You won't have as many public performances," Potts stated. "However, instead of performing to a crowd, you'll be recording a score for a movie."

"What movie?" Thor their typmanist asked.

"Heralds of Valdemar," the unknown woman said. "It has the potential to be a multi-film multi-score deal, depending on how well we do."

"This is Melinda May," Fury said. "She's the director of the project and next to her is Phil Coulson, he's the composer and he'll be directing for the score. Maybe some performances as well."

"Maybe," Coulson said, looking out over them.

"You think they can't handle dealing with both us?" Fury asked, grinning widely.

"We do have different styles," Coulson mused, looking up at Fury.

"Since we'll be recording and Phil will be here, you have one week to issue any challenges. You miss that deadline then we'll deal with any after the movie is done. Phil…"

"I think it's a bit High School and you're professionals, no one else does this," Coulson stated.

Fury turned to glare at him and Coulson shrugged. "I think a bit of challenge can make a better musician."

"I prefer not to give my musicians additional stress," Phil replied, smiling at Fury. 

It sounded like an old argument to Clint's ears, which he tuned out to meet Natasha's eyes. Trying to get a feel for her opinion. Natasha was studying the newcomers, but she glanced at him and gave him a small smile. It was reassuring at the very least.

No challenges would be wonderful, since he knew that Sitwell was planning on striking at whenever he thought Clint would be the most distracted. Clint didn't dare talk about how Bobbi was starting to drop hints that she wanted to move across the country or his son's continual disdain for anything close to music. He was fairly sure that Francis still listened to music as long as it was as far away from what Clint did for work as possible. At least, he couldn't talk about that here. He'd talk about it with Natasha or on a run with Scott or one of his other friends.

"Phil and Melinda are going to be here after practice, if you have questions for them," Fury stated and Clint glanced back to see Melinda and Phil headed toward the seats. Clint's eyes snapped to Fury as he caught the movement of Fury lifting his baton. Clint automatically lifted his bow ready to go. 

*

Phil wasn't too surprised when the first violin slipped into the crowd near him after the end of rehearsals. Fury had said that she was a strong leader of her section and that they were lucky to have Natasha Romanova. Her hair was still styled from her earlier performance, kept carefully out of her eyes, though a few strands had fallen free. Phil finished his conversation, before looking over at her.

"Ms. Romanova, if today was a demonstration of your skills, I'm sure nothing I could compose would be too much for you," Phil said. 

"Thank you, Mr. Coulson, but please, call me Natasha."

"Phil, then."

"I assume you'll be staying in town while composing."

Phil nodded. "Melinda will arrange to have a suite."

"Not staying with Fury?"

Phil shook his head. "We can cohabitate for about two weeks, before we want to strangle one another. Besides, I think he's cat sitting this summer."

"Don't get along with Goose and Chewie?"

Phil shook his head again. "No, I prefer dogs. I don't understand why he keeps falling in love with Carol's cats."

Natasha smiled. "I think it's more the owner and he's trying to ensure that when Carol decides not to travel anymore, she settles here."

Phil nodded. "As if she'd settle anywhere else."

"One of our cellists has a large house. It has plenty of space and he lives alone. I could see if he'd be willing to have a roommate." Natasha paused. "He has a dog, recording studio, and all kinds of musical goodies."

"Surely he doesn't want company that he barely knows."

"I don't know, might be a good distraction. The downside is that he probably has the longest drive into work."

"Um…"

"I'll ask him, it must be so hard to compose in a hotel."

"Well, yes, but…"

"I wouldn't fight her," a voice said to his side. Phil glanced to his side to find the orchestra's pianist standing next to her. "Tasha usually gets her way."

Phil glanced back to the woman in question and swallowed, before nodding. "Please don't pressure him into taking me in."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

The pianist snorted. "Only because Clint would never dare to say no to you."

"I have my reasons and you know them, Rogers."

Phil glanced back at Rogers, who was staring at Natasha, before nodding once. He looked at Phil. "She's not wrong."

"Now, excuse me, I need to go and point out all of Jasper's mistakes from today," Natasha said, before turning to leave.

Phil glanced over at Steve, arching an eyebrow.

"She's trying to make sure Jasper doesn't challenge Clint, before the time limit," Steve replied. "Not that she needs to."

"Oh?" Phil asked.

"Pretty sure Jasper is being challenged right now," Rogers said, pointing toward where a dark haired woman was speaking to Fury. "He won't have time to challenge Clint after Kate's challenge. At least, not before your no challenge rule goes into place."

"Well, I suppose that's good," Phil said, trying to recall where she was in the seats. There was a dark haired woman at the end of the second and the third row. He thought she was one in the third row, which meant that Clint would be fourth chair at best. Phil blew a sigh of relief. The cellist performing earlier had been seated, as Phil had suspected, in the principal chair or first chair. That meant that Phil would not be distracted by living with a gorgeous cellist.

"Phil," Melinda called. "We unfortunately need to go."

"Right," Phil said, before looking at Rogers. "It was nice meeting you, Rogers?"

The man smiled, taking Phil's hand and pumping once. "Steve, Steve Rogers."

Phil nodded.

"I'd take Natasha up on the offer. Clint has a gorgeous piano. Plus the man can cook."

Phil chuckled and nodded, before turning away and going to join Melinda. "I'll consider it."

*

"I can't believe you talked me into this!" Clint grumbled as he slid the cheesy potatoes into the oven.

"Could be worse, could have suggested that Bucky stay with you." Natasha replied. Clint turned to see her smirking at the man in question. His left arm was bound in a long arm cast and he was glaring at Natasha. Steve was bent to the task of decorating Bucky's cast, and didn't bother looking up.

"Clint still has a spare room, we could pawn everyone off on Clint," Sam added from where he was snapping the ends off of green beans.

"How's the fruit coming?" Clint asked.

He wasn't too surprised when he heard the knife slam down and Natasha's cheerfully inform him. "Just fine."

The door opened and the alarm beeped once. "Hey!" Wanda's voice came from the hallway. "We're here. We brought strudel."

"Fuck, there goes my diet," Sam groaned.

"We can always eat it ourselves and make sure you don't get any," Pietro said, coming into the kitchen carrying one of the strudels, probably the one without raisins. Each twin made a strudel, Wanda's had raisins and Pietro's didn't. Wanda's looked better and Clint would rather die than admit it, Pietro's tasted just slightly better. Not that Clint would turn down a piece from either.

"No," Sam stated.

Pietro chuckled, setting his strudel down on the counter in a spot that would be out of the way. He sniffed, making a face. "Ham?"

"I made cheesy potatoes, you weren't going to be eating meat anyway." Clint replied.

"So we get to eat all the sides?" Pietro asked.

Clint shrugged. "Basically. Sam made pasta salad. Steve and Bucky are made mac and cheese. Kate is making fresh bread."

"Yeah, she did that by having me read the recipe Clint gave us as she put everything in the breadmaker," Bucky replied.

"I assumed as much," Pietro replied as Wanda finally entered the kitchen. "Took you long enough." 

"I had to get my shoes off."

"I don't know why you wear those boots, they're so complicated."

"Because I like them," Wanda replied. "They make me feel… sexy."

Pietro wrinkled his nose at that. "You're not supposed to feel that way, ever."

Wanda rolled her eyes. "Did I hear you say Kate's here?"

"Downstairs," Natasha said.

"Awesome," Wanda said, heading toward the stairs that led to the basement.

"Hey, the old man is not giving us a main course!" Pietro called after her. "All we get are sides."

"Are there cheesy potatoes?"

"Yes," Clint replied.

"I have my main course!"

Clint chuckled, smiling broadly at Pietro. "Last cookout, I made sure to buy those real good vegan burgers, so you wouldn't have to choose between meat and dairy and all you two ate were the potatoes."

Pietro considered. "True. Everyone here?"

"Everyone, but our main guest," Clint replied. "And Nick."

"You invited Fury?" Pietro asked.

"Nick is his friend," Bucky stated, turning to look at him.

Pietro sighed. "Thor managing the keg?"

"Where else?" Natasha replied. 

The kitchen fell quiet for a few minutes, before he heard Natasha murmur. "It looks like a robot?"

"It's supposed to look like a metal arm," Steve replied. 

"Did you forget to ask Pietro and Wanda what they wanted to do for food?" Natasha asked.

"I may have forgotten to see if they wanted me to roast a chicken or something for them, but those two can eat their weight in those potatoes."

"More like twice their weight," Sam said, shaking his head.

"Only if we didn't make mac and cheese." Steve argued. He paused, looking up at Bucky. "We did leave off the bacon didn't we?"

"Yeah, I ate it before you could put it on, remember?"

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head. Steve was glaring at Bucky. "Right."

The door opened and Clint couldn't hear the chime over Carol's yelling, "Hey Barton, hear there's a party and you didn't invite me?"

"Didn't know you were in town!" Clint called back. A few seconds later Carol appeared in the kitchen and Clint found himself engulfed in a hug. "Hey Danvers."

"Maria," Clint greeted, giving her a quick hug. "Monica." He offered his fist for bump, which Monica gave him.

"Francis here?" Monica asked.

"Sorry, he's with his mother," Clint replied.

Monica's face fell.

"But he left some video games."

"Yeah, but…"

"Bucky and Sam can't fight about video games, because Bucky can't play."

"He can still comment though." Monica replied.

"Monica," Maria scolded. 

"Play a one player," Clint said. "You don't have to share with them, if they're going to be jerks."

"Clint!" Monica said.

Clint grinned at her. "My house, my rules."

"You'll let them play, if you they want to," Maria said.

"Fine," Monica said, before heading off to the TV in the other room.

"I mean, neither of them are wrong, they can be jerks," Steve said.

"So can you," Bucky replied.

Monica shook her head. "Were we supposed to bring anything?"

"You could have, but we got plenty."

"Cheesy potatoes?" Monica called from the living room.

"Yes, ma'am," Clint called to her, smiling at her yelp of joy. "Thor is manning the keg in the living room."

"You're lucky you have cheesy potatoes," Maria mock-growled at him.

"My cheesy potatoes bring all the boys to the yard," Clint sang, ignoring the groans from the others. 

"Am I going to have to deal with you singing?" Nick asked as he stepped into the kitchen. Phil behind him.

"Only if you want cheesy potatoes," Clint replied.

"Damn," Nick growled. "Phil, his cheesy potatoes are amazing."

"I made a ham, too?"

"Like I care about a damn ham!"

Clint regarded the pair, before looking over at Natasha. "I don't know why I make anything else."

"It is why we come here," Bucky replied and the peanut gallery all agreed with it. Clint glared at them all, before turning to Phil. "Hi, I'm Clint, I'm your roommate."

Phil blinked and swallowed once. "Phil."

"Yeah, I know," Clint said. "So, I know you've met Natasha. That's Sam, viola. Steve, our pianist. Bucky who is clearly not playing right now."

"I see," Phil said. "Hello all."

There was a thunderous drone as everyone that had been downstairs came upstairs and the living room spewed into the hallway and then into the kitchen and great room. Clint named them as they came up. "Pietro is a flutist, Wanda is another violinist, Bruce is our harpist, Thor is our percussion guy along with Val, who is not here..

"She's entertaining a lady friend," Thor interrupted.

"...Kate plays Cello…" Clint continued.

"And I'm going to be second chair!" Kate stated.

"We'll see," Nick replied.

"...And you know Pepper and Tony, behind them with the crutches is Rhodey." Clint finished.

"I feel like this is half the orchestra," Phil murmured. 

"Not quite," Nick said, smiling and patting Phil on the shoulder. "I did tell you that Clint would most likely throw a welcoming party."

Phil nodded and Thor handed him a beer. "Welcome, Coulson!"

*

Phil was pleasantly buzzed by the time Nick and him went to grab his suitcases. He had also eaten too much, which was part of the reason he was following Nick outside. He needed to move and try to walk off all the delicious food.

"Well, now you've met lots of members of the orchestra," Nick said. "And the rest will probably invite you to dinner, though they'll be nothing like this."

Phil glanced back at the house. "They won't?" 

"Nah, this group has it figured out. Granted Clint doesn't always make those potatoes."

"You'd all be overweight," Phil murmured, glancing back at the house. Some of the others had left shortly after dinner. Most of the ones that Phil knew and a few others. He sighed, glancing up, and blinked in surprise to see the sky lit up some stars. If the light on Clint's driveway was off, he was pretty sure he'd be seeing a lot more. Maybe he'd be able to slip out and do a little star-gazing...

"Phil?" Nick said. "You okay?"

"Used to the city," Phil said.

Nick glanced upwards. "Yeah, we've done a couple of bonfires out there and it's lit up. Not a lot of light pollution. You going to be okay? You look worried."

"A bit nervous," Phil admitted. "I don't know Clint very well and…"

"He's private, information that you find out here, just don't spread around. I think you'll be fine. If you're not, then you can always go back to a hotel."

"True," Phil agreed. He hesitated. "Was it me or was there some tension there?"

Nick sighed. "Picked up on that didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Tony and Steve don't get along well. Steve views Tony as an arrogant rich kid that bought himself a symphony to perform in and Tony thinks Steve has a chip on his shoulder. They're both amazing musicians, but this is complicated by the fact that they met during baseball season and a die hard fans of rival teams."

"Oh dear…" Phil said. He considered what he knew of both teams. "Yankees and Red Sox?"

"To a degree, but the Dodgers and the Giants really. They've both spent time on the West Coast."

Phil grimaced. 

"And then there was The Accident."

"Accident?"

"There was a trumpet player that was annoyed by their sniping and encouraged them to have them play their own baseball game. Steve recruited, Tony recruited. During the game, Jarvis Vision hit a line drive, Sam ducked, and the ball nailed Rhodey. He's had complication after complication with that injury."

"Explains the crutches. Is this the result of Bucky's injury as well, because he tried to say he fell off a train."

"No, he did. Well, it was actually a Metro car. He was getting off and slipped and fell. He's hasn't been out of the hospital very long."

Phil nodded.

"They're both extra irritated, because they're both worried about their friends and…" Nick shook his head. So yeah. Tony only steps in when we have some odd instrument to play. Mainly in the percussion section."

"Which puts him right near your pianist."

"Yeah."

"Any other hotspots to be aware of?" Phil asked.

"Your roommate and Jasper Sitwell, but Kate's probably going to win that challenge, so that should settle a bit. Other than that nothing springs to mind, but it's not like I'm going anywhere."

Phil nodded. 

"At least, we know you won't be eating crap from the gas station for the next few months."

Phil sighed and glared. "I'm not that bad."

"Oh, you are…" Nick replied.

"Did you get Phil's bags?" Maria yelled from the door. "Because we're ready to go."

"Yeah," Nick called, handing Phil two of his bags. 

"Thanks Nick."

"You're welcome," Nick said as Maria and Carol joined them with Monica in Carol's arms.

"Um, just one thing…" Phil said, waiting for Nick to look back at them

"Please don't tell Melinda I'm staying with a cellist."

The three of them paused, and Nick's eyes narrowed. "That's right, Audrey was a cellist and you were staring at the trio that included Clint when you came to the hall."

"You got a thing for cellists, Phil?" Carol asked.

"I refuse to answer that question." Phil said.

Monica grinned. "Oh, I think he already has a thing for Clint."

Phil grabbed his bags and headed back into the house. He knew those three would be talking about him on the drive back. He entered the house to find Steve, Sam, and Bucky packing up. Natasha was sprawled on one of the couches.

"Looks like I'll have two guests," Clint said, standing over her.

"You did declare one of the rooms was mine," Natasha replied.

"Where am I staying?" Phil asked. "I only saw this floor and downstairs."

Clint looked over at him. "All the bedrooms are upstairs. Follow me." Clint led him over to the stairs and up them. He turned to his left and gestured to the door. "Here you go, Phil. I'm across the hall, Natasha is too the right when she stays"

"And the fourth room?"

"My son's when he comes to visit."

Phil nodded. "Sorry, I didn't know."

"It's okay, the crew that was here tonight know about the divorce and other things, but uh the second chair cellist wants to be first chair and if he knows my personal life is…"

"Chaotic."

"Yeah," Clint nodded. "He'll challenge."

"I don't intend to talk about the things I learn about you here in a professional setting."

Clint smiled. "I appreciate that."

"You have an amazing set up downstairs. That piano is gorgeous."

"Yeah, should have seen it when I found it, needed a lot of work."

Phil frowned, studying the other man. "You paid for someone to restore it?"

Clint shook his head. "Nah, did it myself. I have a woodshop, restore some instruments and make my own."

Phil blinked staring at him. "Seriously?"

Clint nodded. "I'll give you a tour."

"Don't suppose you have a lap harp?" Phil said, thinking back to the books.

"Uh…" Clint considered it. "I can make one or find one, but I don't think I do. Why?"

"Talia was given a lap harp in the book. I feel like at least one song needs to have it featured."

Clint nodded. "Lemme see what I can do."

"Thank you." He turned to go into the bedroom. Phil paused. "Have you made a cello?"

Clint grinned. "Working on one."

"Can I…"

"Yeah, I'll take you out to the barn." 

There was a touch of promise in that voice. Phil nodded and stepped into the bedroom. He found the switch, turning it on and closing the door. He opened it up again. "Clint?"

"Yeah?" Clint called from his room.

"Bathroom?"

"Door between our rooms, you're sharing with Tasha."

"Only if I don't use yours!" Natasha called and Phil turned to see her coming up the stairs. "I have best friend rights."

"Obviously," Phil murmured. "Do you need to…?"

"Nah," Natasha shook her head. "I'll shower in the morning and I took care of business downstairs. I just need to brush my teeth."

"Ah well…" Phil motioned for her to go ahead.

"He's got a door between the toilet and the sinks."

"Sinks?"

"You'll see."

Phil glanced to the darkened doorway and went to put his things away. There was a note sitting on the dresser, which contained the wifi password and that he was welcome to use the dresser and closet. He went around the room, slowly unpacking. He was sure about one thing about this trip. There was a gorgeous, music-loving cellist, and unless he was a horrible cruel person, which was unlikely, Phil was going to be utterly besotted by the time he left. He was going to miserable, lusting after a man that he was working with and thus should have a purely professional relationship with. Phil sighed as he realized that he was going to be miserable no matter what.

*

Natasha entered Clint's house and listened for a long moment. Considering she didn't even hear Lucky's woof meant that Clint was probably down at the barn. She rolled her eyes, tucking away groceries and then grabbing a beer. She opened it and headed downstairs to find Phil at the piano with a computer screen on top. There were papers sprawled all over it. 

She glanced over at the movie, eyes narrowing as she watched the actions on screen as Phil played. What he was playing matched nicely, in her inexpert opinion. She turned and headed back up the stairs without Phil the wiser and headed down to the barn where Clint kept his instrument making and renovating supplies. She slipped in there and was greeted by a woof as Lucky got up and went over to her. She scratched his head, waiting for Clint to stop what he was doing. The power tool shut off and Clint turned to look at her. He nodded once.

"Hey Tasha," Clint said, grabbing a piece of sandpaper and setting to work on smoothing whatever he was making. 

"Came to check up on you, how are things?"

"Doing alright," Clint replied

"And Phil?"

"Phil is a workaholic, but I suppose having to score a whole movie in a few short months will do that to a person."

"And what are you working on?"

"A lap harp."

"Really? Bruce?"

"Phil, actually," Clint admitted. "Apparently the main character plays one, so I thought I'd give one a try."

Natasha hummed thoughtfully.

Clint's stilled, eyes snapping to her. "Why did you make that noise?"

"You like him," Natasha stated.

"I… Well, yeah, he's a good guy."

Natasha's studied him for a moment and damn, Clint hadn't realized that he was acting like he was with Bobbi. Bobbi who had mentioned that she'd wanted a new computer desk and Clint had made her one. He hadn't mentioned it to her and by the time he'd finished, Bobbi had bought one herself. Clint had been hurt, but hadn't said anything. 

"So… what's going on with you and Bucky?" Clint asked, going back to his sanding.

"Nothing, he doesn't remember our date and…" Natasha shrugged.

"But you enjoyed it, you had plans for a second one," Clint pointed out.

"And now we're friends again." Ugh, Natasha wrinkled her nose, she sound so… bitter.

Clint paused, looking up at her. 

"Steve is a mother hen and I can't get close enoug to Bucky to even discuss if he's still interested."

"Of course, he is!" Clint replied. "He was before."

"Maybe," Natasha murmured. She did need to figure out where they stood, but she definitely didn't want to do it around Steve. She wasn't even sure if Steve was aware that they'd been on a date and plans for another. The only reason Clint knew was because of Bucky's accident. 

*

When Bobbi had moved in with Clint, Clint had been ecstatic. He genuinely liked having roommates. It gave him someone to cook for and maybe they would do the household chores with him. Clint had tried to save their marriage by remodeling a house, but that had failed, taking him away even more, which had been Bobbi's biggest complaint. Francis' birth hadn't made things better, but if Francis hadn't been born Clint always thought Bobbi would have left him earlier. 

He's lived together with Natasha, but she was fiercely independent and would prefer to help Clint made the meal. Living with Tony had him feeling like part of the staff. Steve liked his place to be tidy as did Sam, Bucky was a bit more slovenly, but he had his tidy phases. 

Living with Phil, well, Clint didn't think he had a better roommate. Phil would even do the dishes after a meal, a chore which Clint hated. He never really learned how to use one pot, and why use one spoon when he could use three or five. Basically, there was always a lot of dishes, but Phil never complained. 

Clint hated folding his clothes and would often leave the last load in the dryer until the next time he did laundry. Not with Phil, he usually found them stacked nicely on the washer and dryer. At first, Clint had been embarrassed, because it was rude to take up dryer space when his guest needed it. He'd mentioned it to Phil and gotten a shrug and was told that Phil liked folding clothes, but if maybe Clint could check with him next time he started a load, he'd appreciate it. Clint had and ended up doing laundry a bit more often, but Phil was already in the laundry room folding when Clint had trudged up to fold what was in the dryer and move the wash into the empty dryer. All Clint had to do was move things around and then jot down a few measures that Phil had figured out while folding. 

Phil was kind of the perfect roommate, at least in Clint's mind. Granted, Clint had come home to a few forgotten casseroles and burnt food. He'd resorted to cooking them beforehand, so that Phil could just heat them up in the microwave when he got hungry. Not quite as good in Clint's mind, but still tasty. 

The only real issue was that Clint had basically given up his practice space for Phil to work, which meant dragging the cello around the house to find a good spot or playing in the workshop with its horrid acoustics. Clint debated where to try for today, maybe the living room? 

Clint glanced over and noted that Phil was working on the dishes. He could have a few minutes warming up downstairs. Clint slipped downstairs and grabbed his cello. He started warming up. Phil still wasn't downstairs when he'd finished and Clint couldn't help, but be a little curious. There was some music on Phil's piano and Clint moved over there, finding the cello line, and sight reading it.

He caught sight of the shadow moving as Phil came and kept at it. Phil probably would have recognized it already. The man was intelligent after all and while he might get sidetracked when it came to little things like food. He doubted that Phil would forget that he wrote.

"That doesn't work," Phil said as he stepped into the room. 

Clint shrugged. "Sounds alright though."

"No," Phil said firmly. He went over and started marking up the page. "Try it now."

"You sure?" Clint asked,

Phil nodded and Clint started playing again. Phil nodded, taking a seat and joining in with the piano. Clint almost faltered. He hadn't been expecting Phil to join and play as well as he did. 

Clint felt himself smiling as he played, looking over Phil's broad shoulder. Phil's music was amazing and he was a good musician as well. Good enough to play professionally at least. This was a surprising turn of events. 

*

The best part of Phil's day was when he'd finished writing for the day and Clint would come and play what he'd written. Phil would play along with him on piano or another instrument. Sometimes, they'd record and add in various instruments two at a time to see how it sounded together. 

The worst part was the mornings when Clint would come down stairs in the shortest shorts that Phil had seen, typically shirtless, but occasionally wearing a tank top. Clint would lean on the counter as he watched the coffee drip into the pot, displaying his gorgeous ass for Phil to stare at in his sleep deprived state. Occasionally there would be stretching as well. Clint didn't seem to even realize he was doing it, either!

Even worse was that someone had told Melinda. His primary suspects were either Carol or Nick who had told her, but it was just as likely they were both guilty. So every conversation involved questions about Clint and then ended with an update on editing and questions about the score. Melinda sounded stressed when he'd talked to her less.

Lackey, the author, had sent her over her copies of her filk songs she'd had written and another had composed. Melinda had said if they used any of them, they would be reworked, but Phil was using them for inspiration. Phil toyed with the song, considering the scene he'd watch already, tapping out the keys.

"You're not Clint," a voice said behind him and Phil brought all his fingers down on the piano. He turned to see a blonde woman regarding him. Lucky was up and walking right past her up the stairs. Phil wanted to glare at the dog for not giving him any sort of warning. 

"No," Phil agreed, watching as Lucky disappeared, before turning his eyes back to her.

"Is he even home?"

"No, tonight is a concert night, like most Fridays," Phil said.

The woman pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. "Figures, he'd forget to tell me. I suppose he forgot that it was his weekend with Francis?"

Phil considered his conversations with Clint and had he mentioned Francis was staying with them? He might have, but sometimes Phil was composing mode. He didn't always pay attention.

"Well, it doesn't matter, Francis is old enough to be here unsupervised." Her eyes narrowed at him. "And you are?"

"Phil Coulson, I'm working with the symphony for a couple of months. Clint kindly let me stay here. And you are…?" Phil had a feeling that she was Clint's ex, but the name was escaping him.

"Bobbi, his ex-wife." She was pulling her phone out and tapping into it.

Phil nodded.

"Do you know when he'll be back?" Bobbi asked.

Phil glanced at the clock. It was eight already? He needed to get up and eat. "Not for a couple hours, concert would be just starting."

"Well, I can't wait that long," Bobbi said. Her phone pinged and she glanced at it, huffing. "Well, Monica says you're allowed to be here, I wish Clint would tell me shit like this."

Bobbi turned and headed up the stairs and Phil followed her to the TV room. There was a blond, almost white haired boy sitting on the couch. A video game was already on the main screen.

"Your father has a concert and guest, which he didn't tell me about," Bobbi said.

"Who's the guest?" Francis asked, turning to look over his shoulder and Phil waved awkwardly.

"I'm Phil."

"He has something to do with the orchestra. Tell your father I need to talk to him when I pick you up on Sunday." 

"Will do," Francis promised.

"Thank you," Bobbi said, ruffling his hair. "Are you going to be okay?"

Francis took a long look at Phil. "I have my phone and Lucky will protect me."

Bobbi nodded, giving Phil a long look.

"I'm going to eat and then go back to work. I have a deadline."

Bobbi snorted. "Never heard a musician say that, but whatever." She leaned over and kissed Francis, who had gone back to his game. "Be good."

"Yeah, sure," Francis said and with that Bobbi turned and headed off. Phil was left alone with Francis.

"Have you eaten? I know there's enough leftovers for two," Phil offered, heading toward the fridge.

"Mom fed me," Francis replied. "She doesn't realize that cooking is actually one thing that Clint is better at."

"Is she a musician as well?" Phil asked, heading into the kitchen. It was an open concept, so he'd be able to continue the conversation.

"No, but it's not like that matters," Francis replied. "Clint is so wrapped up in it. He doesn't tell Mom his schedule."

"To be fair to Clint, your mother could also download Clint's concert schedule from the main website. It's public information." A late practice would be a different story, but a scheduled concert, those were up for months. 

"Whatever," Francis said.

Phil sighed and went about reheating his food. When he turned, he found Francis at the island, watching him. "Did you decide you wanted some?"

"No, Clint doesn't normally have guests."

"Do you always call your father Clint?"

"Yes," Francis answered. "I figure when mom gets remarried, he'll be dad."

"Right," Phil nodded, stirring the food in his bowl. He took a small bite, because Francis seemed to be the type that was going to ask something wildly inappropriate the moment the food was in Phil's mouth.

"Are you fucking Clint?" Francis asked just as Phil pulled the fork out of his mouth.

Yep, there it was. Phil calmly chewed, so grateful that he'd gotten used to Daisy pulling the shit when he had first fostered her. "Not that it's your business, but no. Natasha suggested I stay here while I'm in town on business and well, my friends all agreed I should, because I don't have the healthiest habits and like you said, your father can cook."

"What's your business?" Francis asked.

"I'm a composer. I primarily do music scores." Phil risked another bite.

"Like John Williams?"

Phil nodded. 

"Have you done any good movies?"

"Well, I like to think every movie is good in its own way. By good, I'm assuming you mean popular. I did a lot of the Cheysuli Chronicle scores. I expect I'll be called to do the last ones unless they're really happy with Piper and they choose to have her finish the series. I've done some original work for Dragonrider series."

Francis nodded once. "Dragonriders started good."

Phil nodded as he ate. "I tend to binge series when I've got time to not work. Haven't had a binge for that in a while. Haven't done work for them lately. Has it gone downhill?"

Francis nodded and made a face. "They're getting to the AVIAS stuff and destroying Thread forever. "

Phi nodded. He knew that there were others that felt that part of the series was less interesting.

"So Cheysuli Chronicles," Francis started, considering. "Yeah, I remember there was some blow up online about how they were adding all the women to the one about the girl film."

"Daughter of the Lion," Phil titled it. "And yes, they added more women, because that generation was over two books. I'm told it was like shooting four movies at once, since the three brothers' storylines were one movie and it was shot all at once."

"So how come you didn't do the music for that one?" Francis asked.

"I said I would, but I felt that considering Keely, they might want to go with a female composer and gave them a list of female composers and said if these women didn't work or said 'no'. Then I would happily do it. Piper did an excellent job and now she might finish the series." 

"That doesn't bother you?"

Phil shrugged. "I'll find other jobs and Piper might get a few more jobs, because of her experience now." He'd pushed for a female composer for that one and really he'd be fine if Piper finished the series.

Francis hummed slightly, studying him again. Phil started taking smaller bites ready for unpleasant conversational shift.

"Do you wanna fuck Clint?"

Phil arched an eyebrow as he chewed. "1. Regardless of anything, I have a professional relationship with the symphony and will be conducting in the near future. This would put any start of a relationship under unnecessary strain. 2. I don't live nearby and am not really interested in a temporary relationship. 3. I don't live here, it could become very awkward very quickly and then I'd be in a hotel. 4. I have no idea if your father would be interested in pursuing any type of relationship beyond friendship. 5. I have no idea if he was interested in a relationship with another man that he'd be interested with me."

Francis stared at him, blinking slowly. Phil took a larger bite while Francis processed everything. Honesty with children was what had worked well in the past and sometimes when children asked such questions and got a bit too much information, it would make them rethink asking such questions in the future.

"Clint… likes guys…" Francis said slowly.

Phil arched an eyebrow. Well, that was a bit surprising was that Francis took that away from everything. "Does he?"

Francis nodded. "Yeah, when mom and him got divorced. We had a talk about how mom might get a new boyfriend and dad might get a new girlfriend and then like a couple years later. Dad said that it might be a new boyfriend, but nothing ever changed. Well, besides mom dating Lance."

Phil nodded. "Well, I suppose that takes care of one of the points, but it still leaves the other four in place."

"But you didn't answer the question."

"Didn't I? Fucking is a temporary thing. I'm not interested in that with anyone."

Francis groaned and Phil ducked his head, so that the boy couldn't see his own smirk. "Fine, do you want to be in a relationship with him?"

Phil took another bite as he thought about the answer. Francis' eyes narrowed, but he watched Phil chew his food. 

"Well, he was kind enough to let me stay here. He'd a dedicated musician and passionate at it." Phil ignored Francis' scoff. "His friends speak highly of him. So, he certainly has all the qualities I look for in a long term relationship." Phil paused. "Plus he can cook and as an extra bonus, he has an ass that won't quit."

Francis looked bored and then made a disgusted face. 

"You asked," Phil replied.

"It sounds like you do want to fuck him,"

"He also has nice arms, I bet he's a great cuddler," Phil added.

Francis made another face. "Why?"

"You did ask," Phil pointed out. "Should we change the topic?"

"Please."

"So, what do you like to do?" Phil asked.

Francis shrugged.

"How about favorite subject?"

"Art," Francis replied.

Phil nodded. "My daughter liked that when she was younger."

"You have a daughter?"

"Adopted." Phil frowned. "Well, not officially, because she turned 18, before I could get the paperwork could be fully processed. She went to college for it, and is working for special effects company. I think she's doing effects for the same movie I'm working on now." 

"That's cool," Francis said.

"You have any work here? I'd like to see it."

"Nah, I'm only here for weekends and it's not like Clint cares."

Phil hesitated, glancing around the room, before settling on the wipeboard on the fridge. He set his fork and grabbed it, bringing it over to Francis. "Let's see what you can do."

"Wanna see if there are any other colors in the junk drawer?" Francis asked as he popped the marker lid off.

Phil went to check and pulled it out. There were a few other colors and Phil handed them to Francis. Phil went back to eating, letting Francis work. Phil finished and cleaned up his food. When he turned he found that Francis had drawn picture of Cookie Monster saying 'Nom Nom Motherfucker'.

"That's nice," Phil said. He took it out of Francis' hand and put it on the fridge.

"You're going to leave it?" Francis asked

"Maybe Clint will buy us cookies when he goes to the store tomorrow," Phil said. He did wonder if Francis had bothered to tell his father that he liked drawing or if Bobbi had or both had just assumed he should know. There seemed to be a lack of communication with both groups. 

Francis snorted. "Maybe."

Phil looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Maybe he'll bake us some."

Francis' smile widened. "Yeah."

"Well, I need to do some work. However, I have a printer paper, pencils, and pens, if you want to draw while I work."

"Not the best tools."

Phil shrugged. "I know, but it's what I got."

"Yeah, I'll be down in a bit, maybe," Francis said. 

"You don't have to, if you don't want to," Phil said. "I'll be very boring."

"I can always come back up."

"Very true." Phil agreed and headed back downstairs to get some work. It wasn't long before he was absorbed into it.

"Are you watching a movie?" Francis asked. "Isn't that counterproductive?"

Phil pressed down on the keys, making a disharmonious note. He turned to see Francis standing there with a clipboard. "I have to match the music to the scene and when I write the music, I need to make sure it works."

"So what movie is it?"

"Heralds of Valdemar, they're based on some older books."

"Yeah, but I've heard about it. Kitty Pryde is in it. I like her album."

"Glad to know they hired someone that could sing," Phil replied. "I haven't gotten to that part." He paused, waving his hand toward the printer. "Take all the paper you want."

"Thanks," Francis reached over and grabbed a few sheets. Phil handed him a pen and pencil and went back to work. Phil lost track of time, before Francis cleared his throat. Phil glanced over at him. "Clint's home and I should probably get to bed."

"Night." Phil said, getting up and stretching out. He paused, realized that Francis had left his pages. Phil flipped them over to find his own profile, hunched over the piano, one of Lucky, asleep on the couch, and the start of a woman on a horse. Phil set the clipboard on the end table and then headed upstairs.

Clint was in the kitchen, eating a salad. "Hey, heard you met the ex."

"I did. Do you give her your schedule?" Phil couldn't help, but ask.

"I think I did, but it was a couple of months ago?" Clint answered. "Who did the cookie monster?" He gestured with his thumb behind him.

"Francis," Phil replied. He glanced over and found that symbols had replaced the 'uck' of the word. "I think he thought I would erase it."

"Why'd he do it?"

"He said he liked to draw, I asked to see what he could do."

"He likes to draw?" Clint asked, looking surprised.

Phil nodded. 

"He never told me that."

"Did you ask?" 

Clint rolled his eyes, but he considered it. "Not for a long time."

"He's rather talented," Phil informed him. "Drew Lucky and me while I was working on the score."

"He went downstairs?!" Clint asked, looking even more shocked.

Phil nodded.

"He never goes downstairs anymore. He wants nothing to do with music."

"Well, I suggested he draw. The printer is downstairs where the printer paper is and my writing supplies. He has also seen the same scene of Arrows of the Queen… a dozen times."

Clint stared at him for a long moment, before nodding.

"What are you thinking?"

"I love my son, during the school year I don't get to see him, because my performances are on the weekend typically and he's at school the rest of the week. We stopped connecting when they moved. He started hating music, hating me, and..."

"You still going to the store tomorrow?" Phil asked.

Clint nodded.

"Pick up drawing pad and some supplies."

"There's an art store…"

"Don't go crazy. Get it, leave it out where he can find it, and make cookies," Phil suggested.

"Should leave it next to the cookies."

"Just try being casual about it."

Clint nodded. "Where's the picture of you and Lucky?"

"Downstairs on the end table. They're good."

"Would it be too much to put in a frame?" Clint asked.

"I don't know why you'd want my picture," Phil teased.

Clint snorted. "I meant Lucky's."

Phil considered. "Nah. Put it on your mantle."

Clint ate a bite as he nodded. When he swallowed. "I didn't know."

"Being a parent can be rough," Phil sympathized.

"Yeah," Clint agreed. "I don't think you've mentioned kids before."

"I'm a foster parent. When I'm in LA for long periods, I sometimes have kids stay with me for a week or two. Daisy, I tried to adopt before she aged out. Didn't make it, but she's my kid, who also likes art and special effects. She needed something to combine her computer skills with her artistic streak."

Clint nodded. "I'm guessing she's good."

"Pretty sure, she's working with Melinda on Arrows."

Clint laughed. "They didn't tell you?"

"We don't talk about work."

"What do you talk about?"

"I get a lot of Gabe stories, her boyfriend. She worries about my lack of dating and dying a lonely old man. Sports."

Clint shuddered. "Dare I ask?"

"Hockey and soccer, lately, which is Gabe's influence."

"I'd call them safe, but I'm sure Steve and Tony would choose arch rivals to root for," Clint said.

"Go Blackhawks! Go Galaxy!" Phil replied. 

"Aren't Blackhawks Chicago?" 

"I'm from Wisconsin. It was the Blackhawks or the Red Wings. Chicago was a lot closer."

"Fair," Clint said, smiling. "Iowa raised, by the way. I'm guessing Badgers fan then?"

Phil nodded. "Pretty much."

They chatted a bit as Clint finished his food and cleaned up. Then Phil said, good night and went to bed. Clint was headed toward the basement as Phil went up the stairs. He'd been honest with Francis, Clint was someone that Phil would love to date, but their circumstances meant that it was an itch that Phil dare not scratch.

*

Clint pulled out the last tray of cookies and set them on top of the oven. The first batch was cooling and next to it was a sketch pad and well, he may have gone a little overboard. There were colored pencils, pens, two sets of sharpies (one fine and one extra fine), and some nice drawing pencils. 

Francis had still been up when Clint had gone to bed. Probably playing video games. Clint wasn't going to pass judgement on that. He'd gone to the dollar store and picked up a cheap frame for the picture of Lucky, which was now on the mantle.

Now, all Clint could do was wait for Francis to get up. He tapped his fingers against the counter for a few minutes (seconds!) and then grabbed two cookies, before heading downstairs. He hadn't played any of Phil's new score in days and Phil liked hearing the parts. Lucky passed him on the steps, which should alert Phil that he was coming down. In fact, Phil had turned to look at him. 

"How was shopping?" Phil asked. "Go overboard?"

"No," Clint lied and then went for the distraction. "Cookie?" 

Phil's eyes widened and he reached for it. "Yes, please."

Clint smiled, Phil's sweet tooth for the win. Clint sat on the old couch and took a bite of his cookie. "So, how's it going?"

"Fairly well, I'm on track, though I'm worried about Stark's new program."

"Don't want to be the guinea pig?" Clint asked.

"No," Phil said, pouting. "But if it works… then it'll be so useful."

Clint nodded. A program that a composer could edit during rehearsal and synced with other devices so that changes were made immediately would be invaluable, especially when time was limited. Still there were bound to be issues when Phil used it the first time. "Going to go in early?"

Phil nodded. "I'm hoping to make sure that we have back up copies made."

"Makes sense. Anything you need me to play? I need to distract myself while waiting for Francis to wake up"

"Yeah," Phil said, gesturing him over. Clint stood, brushing the crumbs off on his jeans. He grabbed a cello and took a few minutes to tune it and warm up. Phil brought over a set of music and together they started playing. Phil would stop them, tell Clint to make a few changes or make a few changes himself, and then start playing again.

"We ever going to eat lunch?" Francis asked. "Or are the cookies our lunch?"

Phil slammed on the keys, eyes closing. Clint glanced up to see Francis on the couch with the drawing pad on his lap. He blinked. "When did you get down here?"

"A while ago. You two were in the zone," Francis replied. "I had cookies, but I'd like something more filling and you usually cook for lunch, so it's going to take some time."

"What would you like?" Clint asked, standing up and putting the cello away.

Francis regarded him. "I want shish kabobs."

"The meat has to marinate for like a day for that, so tomorrow sure. But today, you have to choose something else."

"Chicken rolls?"

Clint nodded. "With the prosciutto and red pepper?"

"The stuff that's like bacon, but not-bacon?"

"Yeah, that's prosciutto," Clint grinned. "Lemme guess green beans and…?"

"Peaches. You usually grill pineapple."

"I do," Clint agreed. "You want to help?"

"I'll come up and keep you company," Francis said, getting up and gathering his drawing supplies. "Do you have a ruler?"

"Nope, but if you add it to the list, I'll make sure there's one here for you next time. You know you can add anything you want to the shopping list and I'll make sure it's here for you."

"Anything?"

"Well, I know how hard it is to be away from my passion. I wouldn't want to keep you away from yours. So if you need more or something else, add it."

Francis nodded. "Thanks, Clint."

"You're welcome," Clint headed upstairs and Francis followed him, though they were both passed by Lucky. The dog, of course, went to the door to jingle the bell. 

"I got it," Francis said. "You get cooking."

Clint snorted, but did as instructed. The chicken rolls as Francis called them were Chicken rollatini with prosciutto, roasted red pepper, spinach, and cheese. Francis usually requested, so Clint made sure to grab the ingredients when Francis was likely to be around along with the stuff shish kabobs. The chicken was washed and dried by the time Francis joined him. He took a seat at the counter, sketch book coming out. 

"How's school going?" Clint asked as he started layering the ingredients: half slice of prosciutto, a half slice of swiss, a piece of pepper, a couple of spinach leaves, and then rolled. He set it to one side and then doing it again.

"Good," Francis replied. "I'm taking Art I as an elective, which is pretty much drawing."

"Yeah?" 

Francis nodded. "Mom's not happy with my chemistry scores, but…" He shrugged.

"Are you passing?"

"With a B minus. It's not like I missed any cross country meets, because I was failing!"

Clint nodded. "Bobbi just wants her boy to be a successful scientist like her."

Francis' head shot up, eyes narrowed. "Yeah, but mom actually shows up to science fairs."

"Fair," Clint agreed. "Though her job is different than mine."

"She also never promised that 'this time would be different'."

"No, Bobbi's been better at keeping her promises," Clint agreed, finishing the last chicken roll. He dunked the roll into a lemon juice and olive oil mixture and then coated the outside in breadcrumbs, before placing it into the pan for baking. "I am sorry, I missed those events." 

"So you say," Francis said.

Clint frowned and decided to change tactics. "What about your other classes?"

"Mostly Bs, I'm getting an A minus in English!"

"Good job," Clint said, smiling at him.

"It's mostly reading and writing reports, but…" Francis said. 

Clint nodded. "I enjoyed the reading, but the writing, not so much."

"I'd rather be reading comics," Francis said.

"Yeah?" Clint asked. "I used to have a decent collection."

"Really? What happened to it?"

"I think Uncle Barney took them and I'm not sure what happened to it then," Clint said. "I could give him a call and see if he still has it?"

"That'd be nice, though Cooper would probably claim it."

Clint sighed and nodded. "If not Cooper, then Lila."

Francis sighed. "Yeah, never seeing those again."

"Probably not," Clint agreed, finishing the last roll and going to put it into the oven. He washed his hands.

"Sometimes I think I want to try doing comics. Maybe a webcomic?" Francis said.

"That why you need a ruler?" Clint asked.

"Yeah," Francis agreed.

"Kid, you don't need a ruler, you just need a straight edge," Clint teased, opening the fridge up to get to work on snapping the ends of the beans. "Use a book, a cutting board, or…." Clint went and grabbed a cutting board. He set it down in front of Francis. "Look it has measurements!"

Francis looked at it for a moment and then looked at Clint. "You are way too proud for finding that."

"Just trying to make you happy. I'll pick up an actual ruler for next time, okay?"

Francis nodded.

"So what do you think this webcomic would be about?"

"I don't know…" Francis said. "I feel like a lot of ground has been covered already."

"But not with your viewpoint," Clint pointed out as he started snapping the beans. "I think I saw one where someone made a cake that didn't look great and set it next to one that does and they felt bad about it, but then a third party came by and was 'Sweet! Two cakes!"

Francis stared at him. "Yeah, I'm a teenager, I've seen that."

"So, you've had to have some ideas…"

"Maybe a few," Francis admitted.

"Well, share, I can listen and the one I hate, you'll know is the best one, because I'm old and out of touch."

Francis rolled his eyes, but started talking about his ideas as he drew. Clint inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. This was going good, better than it had been a long time. Francis was clearly interested in the topic and Clint knew that it was going to happen, eventually. If anything, it'd be a hobby, a good hobby, something fun for him. It might turn into something more, but Clint, well, he was too afraid to push it. 

*

Clint was matchmaking, Natasha decided, as she heard Sam and Bucky's voices coming in from the front door. Those two never went anywhere together, not without Steve to mediate between. At the very least, Clint was trying to meddle in her life. "You know, Steve, Sam, and Bucky, right?" Natasha asked Francis, where they were finishing chopping vegetables to go grill. Clint didn't have enough skewers for everything, but he did have a pan for the veggies to go on.

Francis glanced up. "Uh…" Francis said, glancing toward the hall as Bucky appeared. "I know him and him."

"Steve stopped to help your dad with the grill," Sam said. "I promised to keep an eye on Bucky."

Natasha arched an eyebrow. "Does Bucky really need a keeper?"

"Steve thinks I do," Bucky said, sighing as he took a seat on the island.

"Well, how'd you break your arm?" Francis asked. "Doing something stupid?"

"I fell off a train," Bucky replied.

Francis gave him a bewildered look as he tried to process that. "What?"

"He really did slip and fall, hit his head too," Sam replied.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, looking at Natasha curiously. "Can't remember some shit."

"Who made the cookie monster?" Sam asked as he started to settle into a chair.

"Francis did, turns out he's an artist," Natasha said. She looked over at Francis. "Why don't you go show Sam some of your artwork, I can keep an eye on Bucky."

Francis' eyebrow twitched upwards. "Why would I…?"

Natasha spilled some of the veggies on the floor. "Oops, Help me with this, Francis."

Francis leaned down with a sigh to help pick up and Natasha leaned down and hissed in his ear. "I need to talk to Bucky alone."

Francis paused, twitching to look up at her. "Twenty bucks."

Natasha narrowed her eyes. "Only if you keep him gone for twenty minutes."

"Deal," Francis said, before grabbing a handful of the veggies and tossing them in the trash. He pasted a wide smile on his face. "Come on Mr. Sam, I'd love you show them to you."

"I just…" Sam started, but Francis was already around the island and pulling on his arm.

"You just see what Clint bought me too."

"I.." Sam started to object.

"Just c'mon," Francis said. 

Worst partner ever, Natasha decided, though he did get Sam out of the room. When Natasha had cleaned the floor up, Bucky was watching their retreating backs. Natasha cleared her throat. Bucky looked over at her and smiled. "Why do I get the feeling you wanted to talk to me?"

"Because I do, preferably without one of your mother hens," Natasha replied.

Bucky sighed. "They are the worst, especially Steve."

"Agreed," Natasha said. 

"Did I forget something important?" Bucky asked.

Natasha bit her lip, feeling nervous. "Maybe?"

"I had a date circled in my calendar. I asked Steve what was special about it and he said he didn't know. I remember wanting to ask you out for a long time. Did I?"

Natasha nodded.

"Did I miss it?"

Natasha shook her head.

"Was it horrible?"

"No, it was wonderful. We had plans for a second date actually, but you were in the hospital and…" Natasha trailed off.

"And I forgot. I'm sorry," Bucky said, leaning over the counter.

"It's not your fault," Natasha said, reaching to take Bucky's right hand on hers. "You were hurt."

"I can't believe I forgot our first and only date," Bucky said.

"We can have another one?" Natasha saiad. "If you want."

"As soon as soon as I can lose the hens," Bucky promised. "They're gossiping mother hens, too."

"I didn't think you'd told them about it. I didn't tell Clint until after your accident. I wanted to see if we were compatible like that, before saying something."

Bucky nodded. "Probably thought the same thing." He squeezed her hand gently, smiling at her.

"I know you hadn't told him about our date, not sure if you told him afterwards. We laughed about it, how we both were interested, but unsure…"

"I can see that. Thank you for saying something. I would have had to build my courage up all over again. Who knows how long that would have taken? You're a very intimidating woman."

"Well, there aren't many people I choose to go out with, even fewer that I want second dates with, and I wanted one with you…"

"Then we'll have one."

The door opened and Natasha pulled her hands away as Steve entered carrying a platter of skewers. "Clint says there's even more to go on?"

"Yeah, just finishing up," Natasha said, clearing a spot for the skewers. She handed him the pan. 

"Does Clint always grill in the winter?"

"Only when Francis is around," Natasha said, smiling at him. 

Steve nodded and headed back outside.

"Reasons Clint has a big garage, huh?" Bucky asked. 

Natasha snorted. "Only reason he moved his car is because Phil’s is still in there."

"He's got it angled to help block the wind."

"He's the smartest idiot, I know," Natasha murmured and started cleaning up the kitchen. It wasn't long before Sam and Francis came back down with Francis hurrying to be in front and looking wild eyed at Natasha. Natasha smiled. "You earned it."

Francis sighed happily as Sam looked at him quizzically and Bucky burst out laughing. 

"How was the art?" Bucky asked, smiling at Sam.

Sam shrugged. "Looked fine to me, could have done without the long ass stories to go with them."

The door opened and Steve came in with another plate. "Food should be done soon."

"Someone want to let Phil know?" Natasha asked, looking on the men.

"I'll go," Francis said. "He's really jumpy." He headed for the stairs.

"That kid ain't right," Sam said, watching him and shaking his head. 

Steve was starting to divest himself of his jacket. It was a few more minutes, before Clint brought the last of the food in and Phil came up from the basement. They ended up having a bit of a free for all around the island, grabbing kabobs or loose veggies and eating them. Natasha watched as Clint ensured that Phil got foods that he seemed to enjoy the most. There was no way that Phil had had this before, so that meant that Clint had figured what Phil preferred during the first round. Natasha resisted the urge to roll her eyes, because Clint was probably oblivious that he had done so.

Once the food was gone and everyone had left Natasha and Clint in the kitchen.

"So…?" Natasha started, thinking of the harp. "How'd Phil like the harp?"

Clint glanced up. "Huh?" 

"The lap harp you made?"

"Oh, uh, he really liked it. He, uh, doesn't know how to play it, but he said he's going to learn?"

"That's sweet," Natasha commented. Clint sounded utterly charmed by the idea and a bit confused. 

"Yeah," Clint agreed. "Though I could probably have done better. It was my first one."

"I'm sure you did excellent work. You never thought of making one, before he realized he wanted one," Natasha reminded him. 

"Yeah, I guess," Clint agreed.

"I remember when you made that desk for Bobbi," Natasha murmured.

"This is nothing like that!" Clint objected quickly. "Nothing like that!"

Natasha covered her mouth to hide her smile. Clint's objection was too much.

"Stop looking at me like that," Clint growled. "I can tell that you don't believe me."

"I know you think that it's nothing like Bobbi," Natasha admitted, reaching over to pat Clint's cheek. 

Clint's eyes narrowed as he attempted to interpret that. 

"Anyway, I've got places to go and it's best that I'm not around when Bobbi gets here," Natasha said, getting to her feet. While Bobbi and Clint hadn't wanted people to take sides during their divorce and tried to say it was amiblicable. Natasha knew Clint had been blindsided and hurt and needed more support. It had caused a rift between her and Bobbi, which they hadn't gotten around to fixing. 

Clint nodded. "Yeah."

Natasha leaned in and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you later."

"Not if I see you first," Clint teased, pulling her into a hug. 

"Thanks for lunch," Natasha said, before slipping out.She considered her options regarding Clint. She could meddle or she could sit back and see how it all turned out. Really the latter was her best choice for now, she could always do the former later.

*

A relaxing Sunday afternoon with no performances, Clint finished putting away the leftovers as the phone rang. He grabbed the phone and answered without glancing at the caller ID. "Hello."

"Clint, it's Bobbi, I need to talk to you and Francis. Can you put me on speaker?"

"Uh, sure," Clint said. "Francis, your mom wants to talk to us!"

Francis tilted his head backward to peer over the back of the couch. "She doesn't need to call before she comes to get me."

"Something's come up. I have to go out of town for a week maybe two," Bobbi said, sounding frustrated. "Hunter is out of town for a week. Francis, you can't be home alone for a full week."

"You want me to stay with Clint," Francis stated, giving Clint a look.

"It's the easiest option," Bobbi said with a sigh. "Clint, can you make sure Francis gets to school every day and has a ride to your place?"

"High School isn't far the Middle School. Maria might be able to give some lifts."

"I could help," Phil said.

Clint jerked, almost losing his grip on the phone to Phil there grinning.

"My schedule is free, I have my own car. Francis may just have to listen to me record me singing as I drive." Phil looked at Francis, grinned, and then shook his head quickly, indicating that he was joking 

Francis snort-laughed. 

Clint smiled at their antics. "Well, it sounds like I have some back up and I'll just cook a little more with Francis here, he can throw a lasagna in the oven and not get distracted in an hour, so…"

Francis grinned.

"Sounds like we have a plan," Clint said. "That work for you, Bobbi?"

Bobbi was silent a moment. "Francis, are you okay with this?"

"Phil will have his phone on, because his work calls him. Clint doesn't when he's working. I can call him if he forgets." Francis shrugged. "Works for me."

"To be fair, your father can't have it on," Phil pointed out, before Bobbi could say anything.

"Well, I guess that works. Do you need anything from home?" Bobbi asked.

"My books, but I have my key and I'm sure Clint or Phil will run me there if need be," Francis said. 

"Alright, I'll grab your bookbag and bring it over to you on my way out. Text me if you think of anything else?"

"Um, how long are you going to be gone?"

"At least a week. I'm sorry Francis."

Francis frowned. "It's okay Mom, there'll be others."

Clint frowned as he looked at Francis. "Other what?"

"Nothing," Francis said, quickly. "Nothing you need to worry about."

"You sure?" Clint studied him. He knew Francis was hiding something, but he wasn't sure what it could be. Maybe, he'd be able to get it out of Bobbi when she dropped stuff off.

"Clint, we'll have to delay our talk, I won't have enough time."

"Talk?" Clint repeated, distracted by his son. "Oh yeah, that's fine." Though he knew he wasn't going to be able to get anything out of her. Bobbi in a rush would ignore him, say good-bye to Francis, and leave, before Clint might even realize she's there.

"I'll see you in a bit, Francis. Bye Clint." Bobbi said and the phone went dead.

Clint sighed and went to grab some paper. "Alright, should we do some planning?"

"I can do most days." Phil said. "Except Thursday, we're playing with Tony's tech and what I have written so far."

"I'll call Maria," Clint said.

"Or I can crash at one of my friend's, because I don't have school on Friday." Francis suggested. "Phil could pick me up in the morning."

"We can ask your mom, if she's okay with that when she gets here," Clint said, trying not to make waves. 

"I have to stay late anyway, so it's not a big deal," Francis said. "We all do."

"Why do you have to stay late?" Phil asked.

"There's a thing at school," Francis replied.

"What kind of thing?" Clint asked.

"A thing I have to be at, why are you asking me questions. It's not like you'd even want to go, if you could go! You probably have something going on" 

"We don't have a performance that night," Clint said, noting that Phil was quietly heading back downstairs and given Francis and himself a moment. "If it's something that you want me at, I… I want to be there."

"You've said that before," Francis pointed out.

"You haven't invited me to things in years. We don't communicate well. I didn't know you were in cross country until the season was almost over. There were two meets left! But if I knew at the beginning of the season I might have been able to make it to one."

Francis stared at him for a long moment.

"Please, I know I missed things, when you were younger and I was trying to make a name for myself and provide for us. I just have one job now, I'm not going to accidently double book myself."

Francis looked out the window, before looking back at him. "It's an art show to show what all the art classes have done this semester."

"At the school?"

Francis nodded once. "Four to six."

Clint nodded. "It's artwork, so open house?"

"Yeah."

"I don't have to be there right at 4, right?"

Francis rolled his eyes, but nodded.

"Okay, rehearsals end at 4. I should be there by 4:30," Clint said, smiling at him. "We'll go out for dinner to celebrate."

"Where to?"

"Wherever you want," Clint said. "And you can invite some of your friends."

"I'll think about it," Francis muttered. "You're actually going to come?"

Clint nodded. "Unless, you really don't want me to. I'll stay away if you think I'll embarrass you."

"No, you can come," Francis huffed. "You'd probably just show up and say you're here to see someone else's."

"Or Tasha would just drag me there and say she insisted," 

Francis snort-laughed and shook his head. "How can you not say no to her?"

"Because she's scary!"

Francis rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Clint smiled at him. "You're a good kid."

Francis' narrowed his eyes as he studied him. He didn't say anything as Lucky ran through the room and started barking. "Oh, Mom's here!"

*

The traffic leaving the school was a lot and Phil was grateful that Francis had suggested that he come ten or fifteen minutes late to let the crowd clear out. He slid into the parking lot and spotted Francis' pale blonde hair at the front of the building with a group of other students. Phil pulled to a stop and watched for a moment. 

Francis and one of the girls were bent over a sketchbook. There was anotehr girl that was just off the steps that was trying to feed a squirrel, but would get distracted by the boy that was skateboarding in front of the steps or would turn and yell over her shoulder. Another boy and girl were bent over a book, but would occasionally look up to make a comment. Phil didn't bother trying to make out the words, he just took in the general conversation. There seemed to be good natured teasing, but the conversation was happy.

The doors burst open and another girl and boy walked out. "I found her," the boy said. "In the band room!" He took a few steps and then tripped and almost crashed, if it wasn't for the girl.

"Nice save, Gwen," The boy on the skateboard declared. 

"Eh, I'd hate for something to happen to Miles' face," Gwen replied.

"We've got dance," the boy with book said, standing up. "Did you forget?"

"Eh, I wanted to practice a bit," Gwen shrugged. "MJ was talking about starting up a rock band."

Francis muttered something and was immediately poked by the girl next to him, who was giving him A Look. The girl stood and looked at the girl with the squirrels. "Doreen, you ready?" 

"Yeah," Doreen said, standing up. "I think I need to bring some nuts tomorrow."

"Sure," the girl responded. 

"Ready to head out?" the boy with the skateboard asked.

"Waiting for a ride, I'm staying at Clint's this week," Francis said, looking at the skateboarder and then looking past him to see Phil. 

Phil waved, awkwardly from in the car.

"Never mind, he's here," Francis said, getting up and heading to Phil's car.

The three remaining students looked at Phil. 

"Is that your… Clint?" the girl who had been looking at the books asked.

"No, he's a friend of Clint's, Clint has rehearsals." Francis responded as he opened the back door to put his stuff in the backseat. 

"So harsh," skateboarder said.

"That's your opinion, Shaun," Francis said as he climbed into the front seat. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Bye Francis!" The trio chorused. 

Phil put the car in drive and took off slowly. "They seem nice."

"Yeah, they are," Francis replied. "It's why I hang out with them."

"Have you known them long?" Phil asked.

"Shaun and Azari were in middle school with me," Francis replied. "Doreen and Miles are in art class with me. Azari made friends with Riri in their advance science class. Kamala and Doreen have a class together and they hit it off or maybe they just always ran into each other when they were walking home from school." Francis shrugged. "Miles and Gwen are in also in the same science class."

"And you all just started hanging out together?" Phil asked.

Francis shrugged. "Pretty much."

"That's nice," Phil said. "Did you have a good day?"

"Really?" Francis asked. "Are we doing the whole small talk thing?"

"Do you have something you want to talk about?"

"Not really," Francis said. He pulled a book out of his pocket. "But I do have some reading to do."

"Alright," Phil relented and concentrated on the drive back to Clint's. Francis quietly read the whole trip there. 

When they got to Clint's, Phil headed down to do some more work as Francis started taking out his books and setting at the table to do his homework. 

*

Clint watched as Lucky gobbled up his treat and headed upstairs. He sighed, shaking his head. Lucky always became Francis’ dog when he visited, despite Clint not adopting Lucky until after Francis had move out. Francis loved Lucky just as much as the dog loved him.

Clint sighed, glancing at the clock. Francis should be going to sleep soon or at least lights out. Clint should go up and check on that in a few minutes. He should also be headed to bed pretty soon, but he was too amped up to sleep. Tomorrow was Francis art show and before that would be playing Phil's score, which he was sure was going to be amazing. 

Clint paused, listening as he caught piano music coming from the downstairs. Smiling, he headed down there. Phil should probably be getting some sleep too. Tomorrow was going to be stressful what with the score being played and testing Tony's tech.

"Phil," Clint called, making sure to stomp a bit down, so that Phil wouldn't startle. The keys smashed and Clint shook his head. Phil did get so very absorbed in his work. It was kind of adorable.

"Clint?" Phil asked.

"It's getting late," Clint said, leaning into the wall. "You should probably get to bed."

Phil glanced at the clock and jerked back. "It has…"

"Going to be a busy day tomorrow," Clint pointed out.

"Stressful," Phil said. "I hope this tech works. I hope they made copies, so we can at least practice."

"So do I," Clint agreed. "Is there anything you need to do before we leave tomorrow?"

Phil hesitated, before shaking his head. "I was trying to write a bit more, but…"

"You're worried about tomorrow, best thing to do is sleep."

Phil hesitated. "I guess, I just, time is short."

"I know," Clint agreed.

Phil pushed himself up, closing the cover on the piano.

"Remember you have stop and pick up your own food on the way back here tomorrow," Clint said.

Phil nodded as he passed by. "You got that thing…"

"Francis' art show," Clint reminded him. "It's the first time in a long time that he's told me about something going on his life ahead of time. I mean, I know I missed things in the past as auditions or fill in jobs came up, but I always wanted to be there. I just needed to provide for my family, granted it didn't do me any good. Bobbi left right as I got this gig and took Francis with her and now they don't tell me anything." He continued to chatter almost all the way up the stairs, but stopped as they reached the top. Clint glanced at Francis door and was happily surprised to see that the lights were out. "Good, he's at least pretending to follow the rules."

Phil huffed. "I get the feeling he wouldn't listen to you anyway."

Clint looked over at Phil. "Probably not."

Phil yawned. "I think you're right, sleep is what I need."

"Yeah," Clint agreed and found himself leaning in. He pulled back as Phil turned, not seeming to notice Clint's lean in. Clint did, he was going to kiss Phil. 

"Night Clint," Phil said as he headed into his room.

"Night Phil." 

It took a few minutes, before Clint was able to move and then headed into his own room. He closed the door and breathed out. He had been going to kiss Phil. Did he want to kiss Phil? Clint took a moment to consider and realized that he did in fact want to kiss Phil. Clint closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself imagine kissing Phil and his mind continued it. Kissing leading to stripping the clothes off of one another to sex to cuddling in the afterglow. He didn't even need to imagine the morning after, they'd be similar to the ones they already shared just with more affection. Would Phil wrap himself around Clint as they waited for coffee? Would he touch Clint as he took Clint's dish to the sink? Would he pull Clint into a kiss before Clint left for his morning run? Would he try to keep Clint from his run? _I hope so_ Clint thought to himself.

"You idiot," he murmured to himself. Clint flipped the light on and started changing. "Phil's planning on leaving, you can't develop feelings for him. It'll go nowhere; you live in different parts of the country. Yes, Phil is kind, loyal, and an amazing musician. He's kind of impossible not to love, but…"

Clint looked at himself in the mirror. "Fuck, you can't be that stupid!"

But, he was, he stupid enough to fall in love with a man that lived on the other side of the country. So very stupid. 

***

Phil tapped the baton against the stand in front of him as he waited for Tony to delve into the code again. The wireless network had gone down just long enough for Phil to have been greeted by the news. Of course the tablets didn't have the scores loaded to them. Some of the musicians had turned their cellphones into hotspots to download the music. Others had refused, saying that their data plan was for their personal use, but if Stark would like to pay for their phone…

Phil resisted the urge to cast another baleful look toward Jasper in the third chair of the cello section. He'd piped up with that one and half the orchestra had refused citing they weren't allowed their cells on the stage anyway. 

Then once Stark had gotten the internet back. They'd had issues with the tablets that had been easily fixed, because Stark had brought extra. These were large screen tablets, so that they took up almost the whole music stand.

They'd finally gotten to play, having to stop when a second chair in the trumpets yelped in the middle of the song. Apparently, he'd accidentally flipped multiple pages instead of just one. There were other instances of players coming in late due the screens also NOT flipping. Phil made a mental note to mention that to Tony. They'd finally made it through one of the songs and Phil had gone to make a few changes. 

Of course, then they started having syncing problems started. It wasn't automatically being changed on the musicians' screens, even though Phil was changing parts. Phil couldn't even have them write in the changes, because someone had not brought a hardcopy. Phil couldn't resist the urge to glare at Tony for that one, even though he had several times.

Natasha's section had brought their own notebooks and post its. Phil could dictate what he wanted to them and hear it. A few others had as well and Phil wasn't too surprised that they seemed to be Natasha's friends. Bruce didn't even need that, Phil just told him and he seemed to recall it.

Phil glanced at his watch. He stepped off the podium and walked over to Tony. "I feel I need to speak to you regarding overtime."

"Huh?" Tony said, glancing at him. 

"It's getting close to four," Phil pointed out.

Tony glanced at his own watch and frowned. "Already?"

Phil nodded. "We haven't made it through everything once."

"Yeah," Tony said. "We'll cover it. It's been my tech that's causing the delays."

"Thank you," Phil said, walking over to the podium.

"We'll be going into overtime." Phil said as he stepped onto the platform. "Due to the tech delays."

"How long?" Clint asked.

Phil shrugged. "For however long it takes to get through this."

"But," Clint said, eyes widening. "Phil."

"Try it now," Tony called out and Phil glanced toward the trumpet section, ignoring Clint. Vision clicked a button and considered the work, before nodding once.

"Excellent," Phil said. "Let's take it from the beginning." He gave them a few more seconds and lifted his hands. Instruments came to a ready and Phil gave the count. Music filled the practice hall. Phil listened carefully, picturing the scene in his mind to make sure that it fit properly. No, he needed to make a change to the woodwinds. He waved them silent and went to make the change. "Oboes, refresh please."

"Alright, let's take it from thirtieth measure." Phil requested. Lifting his arms up. It continued on like that for some time. They would play, Phil would stop them to make a change, and they would continue onward through the isic. Until they were playing and then the Oboes stopped playing. 

Phil glanced at them and saw pure horror in their eyes. Phil waved the symphony quiet. "What now?"

"Um, no battery left," the lead oboist stated.

"Less than 10 percent," Pietro added.

"I'll go get some battery packs!" Tony said. Phil glanced in his direction to him scurrying out of the room. 

Phil took a deep breath, trying to keep his frustrations out of his voice. "How many are at less than 10 percent?"

The woodwinds were all low.

"I'm at 11 percent," Vision stated and Phil noted most of the brass and percussion sections were nodding.

Phil glanced at Natasha, arching an eyebrow.

"We haven't had to make as many changes," Natasha stated. "And I've been turning my screen off during the unfortunate downtime."

Phil glanced at Sam and Steve. 

"Just above 20," Sam stated.

Phil looked toward Clint.

"Kate and I are good," Clint said, glancing toward the rest of his section. "But…"  
Phil ignored him, glancing at the rest of the cellists. 

"Less than 20," Jasper replied.

Phil nodded, turning to wait for Tony to come back with the portable power banks, wondering if they'd ever make it through what he had done. They weren't even halfway through.

***

4:53 Clint resisted the urge to tap his foot and glance at his watch again. He knew it was getting close to five, which meant if traffic was good, he'd make it to the art by 5:30. He would be an hour later than he had said he would, but he'd be there.

"You okay?" Kate asked softly.

Clint shook his head. "I have someplace to be."

"How long?"

"Five at the absolute latest."

Kate nodded, her eyes shifting to the time displayed in the corner of the tablet. Clint's eyes went to it as well 4:54 already. Clint studied the rest of the score, bookmarking where they were and looking ahead. There was no way, Phil was going to let them go in time. There was a little less than a third left and Phil was stopping frequently to make adjustments.

4:55 Phil finished his adjustment. Thor refreshed his copy and picked up the mallets, nodding his readiness. Phil began playing.

4:58 Phil waved them silent, so that he could make a change again. Clint looked over at Natasha, trying to communicate his needed. She glanced away, before looking back at him, and mouthing 'go'.

Clint felt himself make a complicated expression and Natasha tilted her head to the exit.

5:00 Clint took a deep breath and stood up.

Phil looked up at him. "Clint?"

"I have someplace to be. I need to go."

"We're not done," Phil said. "Please take your seat."

"No," Clint said, heading toward where his case was stored.

"Clint! Get back here!" Phil ordered.

"Phil, I have to go!"

"We are paying you overtime to be here."

"Well, I don't want it, I need to go. I'm sorry. You've heard me play most of this. It's why the cellos have had only minor changes. I will be happy to do that again, but I need to go now."

"We have work to do!" Phil said.

Clint sighed and shook his head, before turning and exiting into the storage room. He stowed his cello quickly, ignoring Phil's calls to come back and take his seat. As soon as his cello was   
tucked away, Clint took off running out of the building to where his car was and got into it.

5:05 Clint was on the road with luck he'd be there by 5:35, no later than 5:45. It wasn't what he wanted, but it would have to do.

5:20 The cars in front of Clint came to a stand still.

5:26 Clint had made it past a light and could see police lights in front of his car. He needed to fucking merge.

5:32 The fucking assholes needed to let him merge.

5:34 He finally was able to merge! Thank you blue Siubaru Forester! 

5:44 Clint passed by at a slow crawl the halfway point. He successfully resisted the urge to cry.

5:41 Traffic was moving again.

5:42 DAMN REDLIGHT!!!

5:59 Clint turned down the street to Francis' school, noting the cars leaving.

6:01 Clint found a parking space close. 

6:02 Clint picked himself off the ground after getting tangled in the seatbelt, because the was in a fucking hurry and the damn thing didn't go back as it should have!!

6:04 Clint entered the building and slowed his pace to a fast walk.

6:06 A very irate Francis was glaring at him from the down the hall. Clint took a deep breath and went to face his son, who looked close to patricide. 

Clint considered his choices as he approached. Eh, he better let Francis get it out, before he attempted an apology.

"Where were you?!" Francis exploded. "You said you were going to be here and it's already over. I can't believe you missed this! I can't believe I let myself get my hopes up that maybe, you actually cared about what I was doing instead of just paying lip service to it."

"They had us stay late," Clint said calmly. "I'm sorry, there was an accident and traffic was backed up. I…"

"Bullshit!" Francis exclaimed. "You were supposed to be here! Everything is about money to you! Well, you can't buy me!"

"Francis," Clint started.

"No! Just stop lying to me! Lance doesn't care about the art, but he comes to the sports stuff! Hell, if he were in town, he'd have been here looked my stuff and left! It's not like I have that much. It would have taken five minutes! I'm not even worth five minutes to you!"

"I tried!"

"I don't believe you. You always come up with some excuse. Well, I'm glad Lance is going to be my new dad and I'm delighted that I'll have to see you when you'll have time for me after we move, which will be never, because you never have time for me!"

Clint blinked. "What?"

"You heard me. Now wait here while I go get my stuff!" With that Francis turned and left.

Clint stared after him. Lance was going to be Francis' new dad, but… Bobbi was engaged and they were apparently moving away. No, that couldn't be right. 

Francis reappeared with his bag and jacket. He walked past Clint. "Are you coming?!"

Clint shook himself and followed his son. "Is your mother engaged to Lance?"

"Duh!"

"And you're moving… To where?"

"California. You definitely won't have time to come pick me up at the airport, since you can't even make it anything on time."

"I tried, Francis, I left. Well not as early as I wanted, but they wanted me to stay and I left!"

Francis whirled around to look at him. "I. Don't. Believe. You. And. I. Don't. Care." He spun back around and climbed into the car, which Clint now realized he'd left unlocked. Francis was digging through his bag and came up with headphones, which were plugged into his phone. By the time, Clint got into the car, he could hear Francis' music cranked up, so that there was no way that Clint could talk to him. Clint sighed softly and started the car to head back home. He paused before backing out and opened the pizza menu for Jet's and passed it over to Francis.

It took Francis a few seconds to figure out what Clint wanted, but he was passing it back over. Clint frowned, olives and sausage, the kid was punishing him. Clint sighed and added a 4 corner Hawaiian pizza, an order cheese breadsticks, and an order of wings. He'd stop on the way home. Maybe, Francis would be ready to listen by then.

***

Sighing, Clint climbed out the car, looking at Phil's car on the other side. This wasn't going to be a fun conversation. He glanced toward Francis, thinking of warning him, but Francis was already in the door. It was luck that had Clint glance in the car and spot the Jet's box on his seat. He opened the door and glanced at the box to see it was in fact the sausage and olive pizza. Damn it, he should have put mushrooms on the other pizza. 

Clint headed inside and found Phil waiting just outside the kitchen, looking just as pissed off as Francis.

"Can we not?" Clint asked, tossing the pizza on the counter.

"You left!" Phil said.

"Yes, I did."

"I had to deal with Jasper trying to take your chair for the rest of rehearsals and then Kate and Jasper's sniping!" 

"Should have left it empty," Clint shrugged.

"That was highly unprofessional of you! You just can't leave in the middle of practice for no good reason!"

"No good reason?!" Clint repeated. "Francis' art show was today!"

Phil waved it off. "Not a good enough…"

"My family is more important than your score."

"Your family will be there."

"No, they won't!" Clint said, hating that it was true. "You have a limited time on your score! I have a limited time with Francis! You knew this was important to me!"

"I can say the same thing!"

"Yeah, but you can go back in. I couldn't change his art show!"

"That's more time away from my writing," Phil argued and continued to lecture Clint on his lack of professionalism. 

Clint took a deep breath. "Shut Up! This is my house, Phil! You do not get to lecture me about my job! In _**my**_ house! And if you don't like it, there's the door!" Clint gestured toward the door. "I am well aware I walked out of your practice. I would have done the same damn thing to Fury! And if I knew what I know now, I would have left sooner!" 

Phil's eyes widened and he opened his mouth.

"I will toss you out!" Clint warned. "I will use force if I have to!"

Phil wisely shut his mouth and Clint slipped by him and headed upstairs to his room. He slammed the door shut and laid back on the bed. Then he got up and headed into the bathroom. He stripped down and turned the water on to shower, turning the water on hot. He scrubbed himself clean and tried not to think of Francis moving. He knew he didn't see his son enough, knew that Francis dreaded coming to see him, but he wanted to be a part of Francis' life. If they moved to California… 

It wouldn't happen, he'd be a stranger to his son for the rest of their lives. He'd never be able to fix what he'd broken. Clint turned and slammed the valve to off. He dried himself off quickly and paused, noting an odd sound coming from the closet. Clint wrapped a towel around his waist, and headed there. He flipped the lights on and found Lucky chewing on one of his dress shoes.

"Shit," Clint said softly. He sank down to the floor as Lucky backed away from him. "Aw, buddy, I'm sorry, I yelled, it wasn't at you, but you don't know that, do you? Whenever someone yells, I have to buy a couple new pairs of shoes." 

Clint leaned back against the wall, staring at his dog, who was starting to shift uncomfortably. Clint sighed and got back up. He finished drying off and threw on a pair of shorts and a shirt. Then slipped out to make sure doors were closed tightly. He hesitated and texted Francis and Phil that all papers and shoes should be put away in drawers as Lucky was chewing again. Francis would know that it meant something had set Lucky off and Clint would have a few weeks of breaking Lucky of the habit again. Well, actually making Lucky feel safe and secure, because the poor dog had come abused and yelling was a trigger for the dog. 

Clint tried to avoid confrontations and often was able to calmly get people out of his house by saying it was for Lucky. It mostly was for Lucky, mostly. He hadn't yelled in anger in a long time, but the idea of Francis going to the other side of the country and he'd forgotten about his own dog. Maybe he was a shit caretaker? He knew not to yell in the house. Maybe Francis was right...

Clint shook his head, trying to break out of the downward spiral his head was going. He'd do a sweep of the house of paper once he knew Phil was in bed. He didn't want to risk another confrontation with him. For now he'd wait and figure out a plan. Then he'd try and get some sleep, which wasn't going to be easy to come. Well, at least, his kitchen was fully stocked with baking supplies if needed to go pound some dough.

*

"I mean, it was like 4 am, who goes running then?!" Scott said, pacing in front of Natasha and Hope.

Natasha sipped her coffee and glanced at Hope.

"He's worried," Hope said with a shrug. 

Natasha rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything. She'd already told Scott that he'd done the right thing in calling her. She'd listen to what he'd said and called for reinforcements. They were just waiting for them to arrive. All Scott was doing was getting out his nervous energy. At least, it wasn't the other neighbor that called her. Natasha glanced in the direction of Clint's house and past it to the bright red house.

She frowned when she caught sight of the tan van, which started playing _La Cucaracha_ as it pulled up Scott's driveway. "Did you call Luis?" Natasha asked.

"Well, yeah, last time Clint was out for a run that early he started stress baking," Scott said.

Luis climbed out the van. "Is he stress baking?"

"We don't know yet," Scott said, turning to look at him. "We're waiting for backup."

"Am I backup?" Luis asked, looking slightly worried.

"No," Natasha stated, but then reconsidered. "Though I suppose you could be a decent backup. What we really need are Nick and Tony to handle to handle Francis."

Natasha was aware of all the eyes landing on her. She sighed. "He texted me some stuff."

"Is he okay?" Scott asked.

"Clearly or he wouldn't have been running," Natasha answered.

"He meant emotionally," Luis said.

"We'll fix it," Natasha said confidently. She stood as she noted the three cars coming up the road. They were pulling into Clint's driveway, which was fine, because the kitchen faced the back.

"Bring me back a scone!" Hope called after them. 

Natasha glanced back to see Scott and Luis following after her. 

"Is this about yesterday?" Nick asked as he climbed out.

"Not sure, but probably," Natasha said, going over to let them into the house. She opened the front door with her key and walked into find that Clint had closed off the kitchen. Her eyes narrowed as she knocked on the door. "Clint?"

"Go away Natasha, I don't feel like talking," Clint's voice came from inside.

Natasha sighed. "Steve, Sam with me. Rest of you wait here, I'll get us in."

"We going in through the garage?" Sam asked.

Natasha shook her head. "He'll have it locked there, too."

She led them around the house to underneath the kitchen window, which was opened just slightly. 

"I need a lift," Natasha said, pulling out her pocket knife. 

Together Sam and Steve lifted her up. She cut the screen quickly, lifted the window, grabbed the frame and hoisted herself to go in feet first. Narrowly missing the kitchen sink, she landed on the kitchen floor to see Clint staring at her with wide eyes.

"What the hell?" Clint asked.

"Wanted to talk to you." Natasha said, before leaning back out the window. "Go back around, I'll let you in!"

Steve and Sam nodded as Natasha turned to face Clint, crossing her arms.

"My screen!"

"I'll pay to have it fixed," Natasha replied, going to open the door and let everyone in.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" Clint said as he spotted Tony and Nick. "Are you going to yell at me for my lack of professionalism in my own home, too? Well, fuck that, I told Francis I would be at his art show and if you don't like, I quit!"

Natasha froze, because she hadn't expected those words to come out. Clint loved the symphony. It was his dream job. He was still talking about how he thought that his side business could be enough to support him. Steve and Sam were trying to talk over him, trying to figure out what was going on. She didn't want to be part of a symphony without Clint, without that idiot making faces at her during warm ups. She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Bucky looking at her with concern.

"Will you all shut up!" Nick yelled, finally quieting the room. He surveyed the room. "Close the door, Natasha."

Natasha nodded, closing the door. 

"I didn't know you were leaving for a Francis thing," Tony said, quickly. "Family first, if I'd known I would have sent you earlier, but I didn't know and I was out of the room when it happened."

"Really?"

Tony snorted. "Of course, why do you think I'm not posting for Barnes' position full time. It's temporary until we know for sure that he can't play again with that arm."

"I still have my job?" Bucky asked. "I thought you hated me."

"You have no taste, but you're a damn good musician and if I let you go, when you got better I'd lose Steve and Sam as well. I certainly don't want to replace my principal and second violas at one time. Plus I'd have to deal with Fury's challenges. Ugh! That's way too much work."

"Thanks," Sam said, sarcastically. 

"Now," Fury said. "We're not here to yell at you. We're here to find out why you're running at 4 am and.." he sniffed. "Stress baking."

"Yes!" Luis yelled, causing all eyes to go to him.

"What?" Luis said. "He doesn't bake that much, but he's a damn good baker. Seriously if this music thing doesn't work out he could go into baking."

"Well, that's a completely different AU," said a new voice. Natasha looked at the window to see Wade, Clint's other neighbor, leaning part way in the window. "And also totally not what the giftee wanted in this fic."

"Morning Wade," Clint said with a long sigh.

"Morning Clint," Wade answered. "Clint, I hate to say it, but you look worse than me."

"Didn't sleep well," Clint replied.

"I figured, since I saw you running early this morning. Didn't look like it helped, so I figured you'd lock yourself in the kitchen." He glanced around the room, before looking at Clint and batting his eyelashes. "I see you've got a bunch of people to eat all this food you made, but I don't suppose you'd be willing to give me some?" 

"Sure, Wade," Clint said, turning and gathering some baked goods together. "Do I want to know why the ladder?"

"Thank you, Clint. Well, I was keeping an eye on the house what with all signs pointing to a stress baking situation. I knew red hot and scary would have to show eventually to break your self-imposed exile. Didn't expect her to go through a window, so I grabbed my ladder, since soy milk and chocolate milk disappeared almost immediately. This was the quickest way into your kitchen and I didn't want to miss your delicious baked goods."

"Did he just call me chocolate milk?" Sam asked.

"He called me soy milk," Steve pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I just want to drink the two of you up," Wade said, giving the two an amorous look.

Clint handed Wade tupperware full of goodies and Wade took it with one hand. "You remember the rules."

"If I ever want more, I need to bring the dish back. I remember, Clinton. Just remember, you can do whatever you want after their epilogue and call me. The Giftee doesn't have to know."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Clint replied.

"Course not," Wade said and then hopped down the ladder with his good. "I'll be back for the ladder later!"

Clint turned back to the room. "You've all met Wade and now you all know why I refuse to call Scott the weird neighbor."

"He's definitely weirder," Scott said, slipping by Clint to grab two scones, one of which was handed over to Luis.

"Getting back to business," Natasha said. "They're not here, because they're upset, they're here to help. What can we do to help."

"I don't know," Clint said, sinking onto one of the stools. "My kid hates me. He thinks I don't want anything to do with him and.. They're moving to the other side of the country and.. "

"Oh, Clint," Natasha pulled away from Bucky to give him a hug.

"I don't want to lose him," Clint whimpered. "And Phil's pissed, because of yesterday. He yelled at me when I came home and I yelled back at him. Now Lucky's PTSD is acting up and he's chewing again. I have to go shoe shopping, I hate shoe shopping."

"I can talk to Phil," Nick offered.

"No," Natasha said. "You and Tony need to talk to Francis. He won't listen to me. I’m Clint's friend. You are too, but he's intimidated by Nick."

"Someone needs to talk to Phil," Nick said.

"Text his producer friend and see if she can talk sense into him?" Bucky suggested.

"Good idea," Nick agreed, pulling out his phone and starting to text. 

"How are we going to get into a sullen teenager's room?" Tony asked. "I'm betting the door will be locked."

"You pick the lock," Natasha replied. "Scott?"

"I don't know how to pick locks!" Scott said, quickly, and sounding slightly panicked.

Tony gave him a baleful look. "Please, like I didn't run your ID the first time I met you."

"Open the door and come enjoy the bounty of Clint's stress baking," Natasha instructed.

"Just not the cannolis, they're Francis' favorite."

"Ah, but I love the cannolis," Luis whined.

**

The loud rock music was pounding and Francis was glad that he couldn't hear if Clint was at the door. He just wanted his mom to come home and was glad that she was due back tomorrow. Until then, well, he sketched, drawing whatever came to mind for a bit. At least until Kamala had emailed her script for a comic that they were trying to do. Then Francis had started working on that. Francis glanced at google chat and saw that Doreen had suggested squirrels and there were plenty of facepalms from the others.

When the music died, suddenly, Francis turned to see Mr. Fury and Mr. Stark in his room. He glanced at his door, but was closed.

"Where'd you two come from?" Francis asked.

"Well, you see when two people love each other very much," Mr. Stark started, but fell silent at Mr. Fury's glare.

Mr. Fury looked over at him. "We walked in."

"The door was locked," Francis pointed out.

"Wasn't when we tried it," Mr. Fury replied with a smirk. Mr. Stark snorted, but turned his attention to Francis' walls, which were currently covered in his own artwork.

"We thought we should talk to you," Tony said.

"If it's about Clint, then I don't care," Francis said turning back around.

"Fair enough," Mr. Fury said, looking at Tony's back. "You mind if we talk in here? Clint's been baking and the vultures are here."

"Whatever," Francis said, turning back around to the comic. 

"So, what's the plan, Nick?" Tony asked. 

"You tell me, you were there yesterday. Was it a fire-able offense? If it was, let him quit, saves us money."

Francis paused in his drawing, but it was a trap. They wanted him to become curious and ask questions. He wasn't going to fall for it.

Mr. Stark sighed. "I've got video. I pulled it last night, in case Phil decided to make an official complaint. I wanted to make sure you were aware of the situation."

"You have it with you?" Mr. Fury asked.

There was the sound of movement and then a symphony playing music, before coming to an abrupt end. There was silence for a bit and then Phil's voice. "Clint?"

Francis froze, because yes, that was an argument between Clint and Phil about Clint leaving with Clint insisting he needed to leave. The video came to an end and Mr. Fury sighed loudly. "Well, I suppose walking out is fireable, especially since you know who won't take questions."

"Shame," Tony said.

Francis wasn't stupid, but they were acting like he was. He growled to himself and then turned. "When did he leave? 5:45?"

"Stood up at 5 on the dot," Fury said, offering him the phone. "Want to see?"

"Mr. Stark is good with tech, how do I know the footage isn't doctored or the timestamp faked?" Francis asked.

"Well, I could, but I didn't bother, because it's accurate. Why don't you google today's local news and see the headline about a fatal car crash between the concert hall and your school?" Tony replied.

Francis resisted the urge to just that. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Sighing, Francis looked at the two men. "Say your piece."

"He left at five to get there on time," Mr. Stark said. "Wasn't for the accident he would have made it with a half hour to spare."

"He was supposed to be there at 4:30."

"We don't do over time very often, which is double pay for an hour," Mr. Fury replied. "You think your dad is stupid enough to turn that down when he's discovered his son has an expensive hobby? That's money that could have gone straight to art supplies."

"Besides, it's my understanding that it was an open house," Tony said, going to lean against the wall. "Which means arriving anytime before six would be appropriate and supportive. Did you really want your dad getting bored after walking around looking at your classmates for half an hour?"

Francis considered that and nodded.

"You should go downstairs," Fury said. "Even if you don't want to talk to him. He made you cannolis and Luis is going to attempt to steal a few."

Francis considered, before getting up and heading downstairs. There were cannolis after all. Mr. Stark and Mr. Fury hadn't been lying, the vultures were in the kitchen and there was a plethora of baked goods and fuck, his dad looked like shit. Natasha was leaning into him, giving him physical comfort as Steve and Sam talked. When, Clint caught sight of Francis, he perked up and got up.

"Morning Francis, I made you some cannolis, but then I realized not the best breakfast food, so I made some scones and jelly doughnuts, if you'd rather have those. There's also some cake, mini-tarts and cookies for later. After lunch."

"Thanks," Francis said. "Um, can we talk?"

"Of course," Clint said. "Do you want to grab something to eat first? I don't think you've been downstairs."

"I'm not going to turn down cannolis," Francis stated, slipping into the kitchen to grab a two and then motioned for them to head out to the front porch away from the crowd. Clint followed him.

As soon as they were outside. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I really did try, and I've been thinking and you know I repair instruments and I've been making my own. Well, I think I could make a living doing that, so I could quit the symphony and… maybe you'd tell me about other things you're in and I'd be able to make it a lot easier, since I'd be own boss."

Francis stared at his father and well, he had pushed and pushed. "I don't want you to do that. You love the symphony and playing."

"I could still play, just for myself," Clint said, dropping onto one of the benches. "I know I've screwed up with you, a lot. I want to fix things."

"Okay," Francis said, taking a seat next to him. "Doesn't change that I'm still moving."

Clint nodded. He hesitated. "I… I always want you here and you know you can come visit whenever you want. I will have certain responsibilities, but I can miss things for you, especially if I have time to arrange it. You're old enough to stay home alone and you'll be old enough to drive soon, so you'd be able to visit your friends if I was working."

"I like my friends, I wish you'd gotten to meet them yesterday."

"I do, too. Maybe I could still take you all out to eat for pizza some time or cook?" Clint suggested. "’Cause you may think I bought those games for Sam and Bucky, but I bought 'em for you."

"I know," Francis said softly. He hesitated and then leaned into Clint. He wasn't too surprised when Clint wrapped an arm around him. He took a bite of his cannoli. "So why is Lucky's PTSD acting up?" He'd seen the text and made sure his art supplies were tucked away. 

"Phil and I had a fight. He wasn't happy I left," Clint admitted. "There may have been yelling, because he knew that being there was important to me."

Francis nodded.

"I may have told him I didn't want to hear it. It wasn't the most professional, but it's you. You wanted me there and I said I'd be there. I told him he could shut up or he could leave."

"Phil doesn't seem that bad, though."

"Kid, you just told me that you were moving and Lance was going to be your new dad. I really wasn't in the mood."

"He's got no interest in art, he was happy he was going to miss it," Francis admitted. "He showed up to all my cross country meets though"

"I didn't know your were doing cross country until the season was almost over," Clint stated. "I would have come, but by then I had prior commitments and couldn't break them."

"I was thinking about doing lacrosse this spring," Francis admitted. "Shaun and Azari were planning on it, too. Miles' parents wouldn't let him, overprotective."

Clint smiled slightly. "You could do that out in California. It could help you make new friends."

Francis sighed. "Maybe."

*

Phil glanced at the phone that was ringing and saw that it was Melinda. He picked it up. "I'm working."

"Are you? Because Nick just texted me that I needed to call you and 'straighten out my boy'." She sighed. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. Clint's the one that is being immature."

"Hottie cellist?" Melinda asked. "You're fighting with hottie cellist?! I thought you were going to try and tap that before you left."

Phil wrinkled his nose. "You've been around Daisy too much, if you're using phrases like tap that."

"Possibly, but don't change the subject. What happened?"

"He stormed out of rehearsals yesterday and when I called him on it, he told me to shut up or move out."

Melinda hummed. "Why did he storm out?"

"He said he had someplace to be," Phil admitted.

"Did he?"

Phil was silent.

"So he did, and where he needed to be was probably genuine and if you hadn't had a shit day yesterday you'd have let him go."

Phil hesitated, before sighing. "His son had an art show. He left so he could be there."

Melinda hummed. "Did you know about it?"

"I think he mentioned it," Phil admitted, because Clint had been babbling the night before about something.

Melinda sighed. "Phil, do I need to tell you anything?"

"No," Phil admitted. "I shouldn't have gotten mad at him, shouldn't have yelled at him, especially not in his own house. I probably should go to a hotel." He didn't want to, Clint really did have an excellent set up.

"You should apologize and offer," Melinda suggested.

"Yeah," Phil said, heading upstairs. "I'll call you later." He paused at the top of the stairs to find Clint's kitchen was full of people.

He cleared his throat. "Uh, do you know where Clint is?"

"He's talking to Francis," Nick said. Phil turned to find him sitting in the living room, eating… something, which was waved. "You can wait."

"That's fine." He narrowed his eyes. "What are you eating?"

"Eclair," Nick said.

"Did someone bring doughnuts over?"

"You activated Clint's stress baking," Tony answered. "Man, looks like shit."

"Well, he's probably been baking all night," said someone who looked familiar, but Phil couldn't recall his name.

Phil drifted into the kitchen eyeing the buffet of baked goods.

"You can have something after you talk to Clint," Natasha said. "He who causes the stress baking doesn't get to eat the stress baking until Clint says it's okay."

"Francis got to eat a couple of cannolis, but it’s Francis," the other man said, looking mournfully at a plate of cannolis. 

Phil sighed, glancing out the window to see their two heads. Francis was leaning into Clint's shoulder with Clint's arm around his shoulder. He ventured closer to the window and didn't hear any talking. Debating briefly, he went and leaned outside.

"Hey," Phil said, hating that Clint stiffened up almost immediately. "When you have a moment, can I talk to you?"

Francis glanced between them. "Whatever you have to say to my dad, you can say in front of me." Then he crunched the cannoli, glaring fiercely at Phil.

"Right. Clint, I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have yelled at you in your own home. We were off work," Phil started.

"Shouldn't have yelled at all," Francis corrected.

"True," Phil agreed. "I'm sorry for yelling and getting upset and not listening to you. I will try to do better."

"If you're going to yell, you can't do it on the property," Francis said. "It's a trigger for Lucky. You owe dad a new pair of shoes." Francis glanced toward Clint. "I'm assuming he went after your shoes."

Clint nodded, still watching Phil with wary eyes.

Phil blinked and nodded. "I don't generally get that upset. It was a very trying day and I let loose on you. That doesn't excuse my actions."

"I shouldn't have yelled back either," Clint said. He reached up and ruffled Francis' hair, earning his own glare from the teen. "Kid dropped some bombs on me and was giving me the cold shoulder. I didn't make it on time."

Phil considered the distance. "You had to have left with enough time."

"If there hadn't been an accident on the way that delayed traffic. Yeah, I would have, but there was, so I was late," Clint said.

Phil nodded. "Well, I understand and won't hold that against you."

"Same," Clint said with a nod. "You can help yourself to some of the baked goods. Assuming the impromptu party hasn't eaten them all."

"Except the cannolis. Those are mine," Francis stated. "But tell Luis, Scott, and Natasha that they can each have one."

"I'll be sure to do that," Phil said. He hesitated. "If you'd like, I can go get a hotel room. I know I overstepped my boundaries and.."

"Do you want to go?" Clint asked, cutting him off. "Because I'm not going to make you. If you want go, I won't hold it against you. If you want to stay, stay."

Phil nodded. "I'd like to stay. You're a wonderful host and your set up…"

"Is pretty damn sweet, huh?" Clint asked, smirking.

"So sweet," Phil agreed, heading to the door. He paused again. "Thank you, Clint."

"For what?" Clint asked. 

"For.. " everything, Phil thought to himself. He couldn't say that though. Instead, he decided on "...letting me stay."

"I generally have enjoyed having you here," Clint replied. "Except for last night."

"It wasn't fun for me either," Phil agreed. "Let's try to avoid that."

"Yeah," Clint agreed.

Phil nodded and slipped back inside. 

*

By the time everyone had cleared out, taking a good chunk of the baked goods with them. Francis had disappeared briefly, before coming back down with his sketch pad and showing him some of the things he'd done in it. Clint had listened and asked questions. They had eventually settled on watching a movie together until it was time for lunch. Sandwiches on homemade bread, which everyone else had missed, because Clint had just put it in the oven. 

Phil had shown up for the sandwiches and then gone back downstairs after eating. Lunch had been awkward to say the least, but they'd made it through. Francis had gotten a phone call and asked if Clint would drive him to an indoor mini-golf to join his friends. Clint had asked about their tastes and Francis had helped to put together some baked goods to go home with them.

They'd returned home, after a trip to the store for dinner supplies, and had made dinner together. Phil had returned for an awkward dinner, but had joined Clint and Francis to watch Star Wars.

"You know, it's John Williams that inspired me to become a composer," Phil said, during a quieter scene. "I'd love to do the next trilogy."

"Not surprising," Clint murmured and they fell silent again. 

As the credits started to roll, Francis looked between them and sighed. "Well, this has been super awkward."

"It happens," Phil said, softly. 

"We'll figure it out," Clint said, trying to cheer him up.

"Can I make a suggestion?" Francis asked.

"Sure," Clint said.

Francis waited until Phil's nod. "After I leave, you two should probably just fuck it out."

"Excuse me?" Clint asked, looking over at his son, who was getting up.

"You heard me," Francis said. "Phil's just super embarrassed for yelling at his crush and probably super hurt that his crush yelled at him. Now, I'm going to bed. Night!" He grinned and headed for the stairs. "Also, Lucky's PTSD is acting up. Put stuff away!"

"Yeah," Clint agreed, glancing over to see that Phil's face was bright red. Clint swallowed as he realized that Francis was a vindictive little bugger. "Um, Do I need to go ground him?"

"No," Phil said. "It's, I.." Phil sighed and shook his head. "Your son attempted to push my buttons when he first arrived and I gave him honest answers and didn't swear him to secrecy."

"Okay, so…?"

Phil shrugged and looked at Clint with wide eyes. "I don't know what you're asking."

Clint studied him, because Phil seemed nervous. "What did you… If you could tell me what you said to Francis that… that'd be helpful."

Phil nodded. "I told him you were my type, you were what I looked for in a partner, and that you had some excellent bonuses, but I'm not… I can't do a short term romance. I go into things hoping that they'll last, which they haven't, but I want to find the one…"

"That lasts," Clint finished with a nod and Phil nodded.

"I also told him the timing was bad. I don't get involved with people I'm directing and, well I didn't say this to him, but Long distance relationships are hard."

Clint nodded. "Even harder for two workaholics like us."

"Yeah, so, does it matter?" Phil asked. He smiled. "I also told him I had no idea if you were interested in guys in general and me in particular."

"I am."

"Yeah, he said you had a talk that you are interested in guys in general."

"I'm also interested in you in particular."

Phil stilled, blinking as he looked at Clint. "Seriously?"

Clint nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Even after…?"

"We both had bad days and we both apologized."

"We did," Phil agreed.

"So, when everything is done. Maybe we should go on a date?" Clint suggested. "So you're not breaking any rules."

"Yes, but there's the potential to work with Stark Symphony in the future…"

"But if the studio has a problem with it. Well, it'll pre-existing by then," Clint argued.

Phil considered that, head swaying back and forth. "You have a good point. When I have Melinda's approval on the score and we've recorded. Then yeah, yeah…"

"Yeah?" Clint asked.

"Yeah." Phil smiled at him.

Clint smiled back, feeling his heart flutter just a bit. He hoped Phil would get this score done in record time now. 

"What about the long distance?" Phil asked.

"Well, I think either one of us could move to be closer," Clint admitted. "But… I think we need to see if we're date night compatible?"

Phil chuckled. "You're right, I could certainly move here. Your set up is better than some others I've worked at. I guess, there's always video chatting. I think Daisy has gone on dates with Gabe when he was in another state."

Clint smiled. "Thank you. So let's try a few dates and see how it goes." Somehow he felt a bit lighter.

*

Phil paced in front of the phone and avoided looking at where Clint was lounging in his chair. Melinda was reviewing the movie with the music along with a few others. She was supposed to call, and it'd be perfect if it could be tonight. Clint had performances for the rest of the week.

He just wanted one official date with the man, before had to go. Clint had turned flirtatious since Francis had spilled the beans. He never crossed the lines, but they'd started eating together more often with Phil setting aside his work and taking Lucky for a walk each night whenever Clint got him. They talked about everything. Sports to stories about growing up to their friends. 

Phil turned and glanced at Clint. Clint's eye line rose and Phil arched an eyebrow, because really, Clint was looking at his ass now. Clilnt shrugged and looked, eyebrows rising as a smirk shifted into his face a clear challenge. Phil wanted to go kiss that look off his stupid, sexy face. Phil scowled, because they were almost done all he needed was a damn phone call. He glanced at Clint when he let out a low chuckle.

"Oh, shut up," Phil grumbled.

"I didn't say a word."

Phil opened his mouth to retort, but the tinny sounds of Duel of the Fates from his phone rang. Phil dove for it. "Melinda?"

"Hey Phil, how's hottie cellist?" Melinda asked, amusement showing through.

Phil glanced over at Clint where he was lounging on the chaise lounge at the end of the couch. His feet were up, shirt sleeves rolled to just under his elbows, and he toying with his tie, wrapping the fabric around long fingers.

"Extra hot," Phil stated, turning away. "How's the music?"

"We can talk about that in a bit, tell me more about hottie cellist."

"Melinda," Phil growled, because she was teasing him.

Melinda laughed. "You did a wonderful job as usual Phil. Movie is now complete."

"Thank you," Phil said, ducking his head. "Now, I have to go."

"I know, you have a date with a hottie cellist. Daisy told me." 

Phil sighed and hung up the phone, looking over at Clint. "Done."

It was apparently what he'd been waiting for, because Clint rose with one fluid motion and stalked over to him. Phil managed to swallow and went willing when Clint reached out to pull him in, lips landing on his own. Phil moaned into the kiss as their bodies made contact. He wrapped his hand around the back of Clint's neck to hold him there, the other hand went questing for that ass and found it, warm and firm beneath his hand. 

Phil needed to breath too soon and he broke away with Clint lingering close and breathing just as hard.

"I have an idea," Clint suggested. "Let's reclassify those dinner as dates and stay home." Clint emphasized his intention by grinding his hips and letting feel his hard on.

"They weren't…" Phil pointed out.

"The only reason they weren't is because you had a rule," Clint argued. "And now your rules don't matter."

"But I want to take you out…" Phil said, trying to remind himself why staying in was a bad idea.

"I don't need to be wined and dined."

Phil leaned into kiss Clint again, before pulling away and having to hold Clint back from continuing. "Maybe, I need to wine and dine though."

Clint studied him, those amazing eyes staring into his and Clint pulled away. "Alright."

Phil couldn't resist, grabbing Clint's tie and pulling him back into a kiss. "Doesn't mean I won't put out afterwards."

"Tease," Clint mock-growled. "But you better stop or I'm going to haul you upstairs."

Letting go and backing up, Phil smiled at Clint. "Alright."

"Do I need to change?" Clint asked.

"No." Phil shook his head. "You look… amazing, but that's your usual."

Clint blushed slightly. "You look good too. I don't suppose we could go now? Get to coming home sooner?"

Phil chuckled. "Yeah, we can go." 

Phil wasn't too surprised when Clint reached to grab his hand and tangle their fingers together as he tugged him toward the door. Phil went easily. "Everything picked up?"

Clint nodded. "What do you think I did while I was waiting for Melinda to call you? I had plans that involved leaving Lucky unsupervised."

"He's been getting better," Phil pointed out.

"Yeah, but vocal sex tends to cause the same reaction," Clint admitted and sighed. "So we may need to lock him out of the upstairs.

"Poor Lucky," Phil pouted as they reached the car.

"He'll survive," Clint said. "Who's car?"

"Mine," Phil said easily. "Studio is paying for it."

Clint barked a laugh and opened the garage door. Phil happily followed him, climbing into the driver seat as Clint slid into the passenger seat. Phil backed the car out and headed for town. Clint had a weakness for sushi, but rarely indulged and he knew exactly where to go. Then they'd come back here and indulge with one another.

*

Clint smiled as he spotted Phil coming into the baggage claim. He waved and caught Phil's attention. The other man grinned when spotted Clint and headed straight to him. Clint pulled him into a hug, simply breathing him in for a long moment.

Phil pulled back and then pulled Clint into a kiss. 

Clint leaned into it, before pulling away. "Missed you too."

"Do you need to go, because I can take a taxi and catch up?" Phil suggested.

Clint shook his head. "You'd think I'd come out here for a kiss? And then leave you?"

"If you were going to be late, yes."

"Francis thinks I'm coming out here to pick up the Van Dyne's for Scott. He knows that my arrival is dependant upon traffic." 

"Why can't Scott or Hope pick them up?"

"Going to Cassie's soccer game. Scott played the whole “I don't want to be a shitty dad” card and Hope's car is actually in the shop, which was convenient. They also… tolerate Luis? So he's the last option."

"Are they actually coming?"

"Got in earlier today."

"So he doesn't know I'm coming?" Phil pulled completely away and went to look at the screens.

Clint shook his head. "Nope, but I have some news."

Phil glanced at him. "Are you going to tell me?"

"Maybe," Clint teased. "See your flight?"

"I do," Phil said. He grabbed Clint's hand and tugged on it. "C'mon. Walk and talk with me?"

"Kind of new, walking and talking and holding your hand," Clint said.

"Kind of nice."

"Really nice."

Phil flashed a grin at him. "So tell me?"

"I've taken the day off tomorrow. Kate's going to be principal for three concerts."

"So you could spend time with me?" Phil asked.

"Yeah, at the lacrosse regionals, where we can watch Francis sit the bench."

"So he got up pulled up to varsity?" Phil asked.

Clint nodded. "Had a couple minor injuries."

"Good for him, any of his friends?"

"Azari and Shaun are there. We're grilling at the park, so you're in charge of recording Francis, if he plays, for Lance."

Phil made a face. "Seriously?"

"Sorry, I may be feeding our team."

Phil came to a stop in front of an empty belt. "I suppose that makes sense and everyone else is working."

"Scott may attempt to escape the in-laws with Luis. Maybe Wade."

"Your odd neighbor?" Phil asked.

"Yep."

"Anyone else and Scott would have been the odd neighbor."

"Oh, I'm aware," Clint said, smiling at him. "How many bags do you have?"

"Two big ones. I shipped most of it."

"I've cleared out the closet and half the drawers for you. Francis decided he didn't want to share a wall with us anymore and has claimed your old one."

"I thought he didn't know…"

"He asked about after your last visit. So we've been painting and moving furniture."

"Seems like a lot of work, if he's going to live with Bobbi."

"He's going to go out there for like a month, month and a half, but he wants to stay here." Clint had never felt prouder when Francis had started making noise about staying here where his friends were, especially since living with Clint hadn't been horrible. His words not Clint's. 

"That's awesome. He does know I'm moving in?" 

"You told him yourself last week. He just thinks you're coming next week."

"Good, it wouldn't be right to surprise him with something like this," Phil murmured.

"I know, I talked to him, and I had Natasha talk to him. She's agreed that he's fine with it."

"Don't trust your judgement?" Phil asked.

"Not completely, not with the big things," Clint admitted. "He can be hard to read sometimes."

With a rumble, luggage began appearing. Clint let go of Phil's hand for him to grab his bags and then took one and took another hand. He led them out of the airport and to the car. They chatted along the way, discussing various aspects of their lives. Clint mostly talked about what Francis had been up to with the end of the semester looming. He still couldn't believe that Francis had somehow talked Bobbi into letting him finish the year here with Clint. Granted Clint was perfectly happy to have him. Phil talked about his next project music for the first movie in a potential series for from the Vorkosigan Saga books. Clint smiled, keeping quiet about a few changes he'd made to the basement to make it even better for Phil.

Their conversation continued in the car as Clint drove to the school. They climbed out and headed inside. Clint guided him to where the art show was set up and in. They wandered looking at the other students until Clint felt an elbow in his side. Clint glanced at Phil as he gestured down. Clint followed the gesture and found Francis talking to another parent. They hurried their pace. 

Francis turned as they neared. His face shifting to one of surprise. "Phil! You're not supposed to be here until next week!" 

''Well, I wanted to make sure Clint made it this time," Phil replied with a wink.

"Oy," Clint objected, glaring at Phil. 

Phil grinned up at him.

"Yeah, like I've completely forgotten whose fault that was," Francis replied and then leaned in to hug Clint. "So dinner is on then?"

"Dinner was always on, I said it my arrival on time might be tight, but if they could wait, I'd get here and take 'em out."

Francis rolled his eyes and stepped away. "I'm going to text everyone and confirm."

Clint nodded, knowing full well that Francis hadn't fully believed him. "We're going to check out your art."

"Sure, sure," Francis stated, pulling out his phone and tapping out a text message.

Clint wrapped an arm around Phil's waist and guided him to where Francis' artwork was displayed. Francis had redesigned his friends as superheroes, but in the midst of that was a picture of Phil bent over a keyboard, himself playing a cello, Natasha with her violin, and one of him and Phil standing in the kitchen with Clint leaning against the counter and Phil seated on the other side of the island. 

"That's my last visit," Phil said, pointing out the same picture that Phil was staring at. "We were talking about…"

"You moving," Clint finished.

Francis snorted. "That was from Phil's first visit and you were talking about Lucky's diarrhea."

Clint looked over at his son. "You're making that up."

"I wish I was," Francis stated with a long sigh. "You two are disgustingly sweet with one another."

Clint met Phil's eyes. "I'm okay with that."

"So am I," Phil agreed.

"Ugh," Francis groaned.

Phil looked over at Francis. "You encouraged this, this is all your fault. I wasn't going to make a move, but someone did suggest we fuck it out."

Francis glared at them, but Clint knew that he couldn't argue with that. "C'mon Handsome, let's go look at other kid's art and secretly consider them inferior to my kid."

"Okay, see you in a bit Francis," Phil called and together they made their way through the gym. 

Clint smiled, completely happy with how much his life had changed in a few months. Tomorrow would be a lacrosse game and Francis had even agreed to go to Sunday's performance. He'd offered to go as a bribe to get Clint to cook tomorrow, which Clint would have done regardless. Granted, for the performance Clint was going to let Kate keep principal chair because she was there for all four performance and he'd only be there for one. 

Clint had always had good friends. He had his music and now... Now his family situation was improving.

"What are you thinking?" Phil asked.

"That I was pretty good before, but now I'm even better. I got you and Francis in my life."

Phil snorted. "Yeah, I'm pretty lucky. Never thought I'd get with that hot cellist that I saw when I first walked into the concert hall."

"Hot cellist?" Clint asked. "Me?"

Phil took a deep breath. "Melinda might have referred to you as hottie cellist all while I was living with you and… still occasionally does."

Clint tilted his head back and laughed. "Does that make you hottie composer?"

Phil blushed and shrugged. "If you want to make me that?"

"I'm so changing your name in my phone to that," Clint teased and he planned on doing the same to Phil's phone with his name when Phil left it lying around the house.

**Author's Note:**

> The rough floor plan for Clint's house is [here](https://www.wausauhomes.com/floor-plans/search/biscayne) though the kitchen has been massively redone.
> 
> I googled wipe board drawings to determine what Francis would make and this is the [cookie monster picture.](https://cdn.ebaumsworld.com/mediaFiles/picture/604025/84584256.jpg)
> 
> Clint's look while Phil was awaiting approval of his score by Melinda was inspired by [this picture](https://66.media.tumblr.com/7228b4b27c14fa3e72dc9b3d12f27788/tumblr_pomvzoXKvk1r61nfto5_1280.jpg)
> 
> The opening was written twice and the original featured a scene of Natasha and Clint going to a club with a band called Daughters of a Mad Titan, which were made of Guardians of the Galaxy. Some members of the band even wore face paint. I was going to repurpose them as a rock group that Francis enjoyed, but it didn't work. T'challa also never made it in, but he's ruling Wakanda and would have performed in the Royal Wakandan Symphony, before being crowned.
> 
> Wade was not originally intended to be in this story. As with many Deadpools, he showed up and refused to be cut.


End file.
